


The Other Side of Fear

by Kittypatch



Series: The Other Side of Fear [1]
Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Canon Compliant, Flashbacks, Friendship/Love, Hiatus era, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Panic Attacks, Personal Growth, Platonic Cuddling, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape Recovery, triggering content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-14
Updated: 2016-08-10
Packaged: 2018-07-15 02:50:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 47,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7203398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kittypatch/pseuds/Kittypatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It took Pete three minutes of convincing by a nurse that it was legit, that Patrick had asked for him. Patrick, the best friend he didn't speak to anymore, wanted him at the hospital after an emergency.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Warning, this contains triggering content that some may find uncomfortable. Please read the tags carefully.

The phone call was weird. Pete was sure it was a joke; an old friend playing games or maybe a fan trying to make things worse. It took Pete three minutes of convincing by a nurse that it was legit, that Patrick had asked for him. Patrick, the best friend he didn't speak to anymore, wanted him at the hospital after an emergency.

Patrick had always been a terrible driver, a little bit scatty at his best and always thinking of something other than the road at his worst. When he'd been arrested a few years back, Pete was certain it'd be on some kind of fender bender issue, not silly license trouble. He was thinking the same as he threw himself into his car. Patrick had got himself into some form of a car accident and he needed help. Why he'd ask for Pete over brand new friends, he didn't know.

Pete drove to Cedars-Sinai with his head spinning. The drive was painless inasmuch as the early hours was as quiet as LA got. He didn't even know Patrick was in LA; last he heard he was in Chicago, doing his own thing and being his own person. Last Pete knew, Patrick had no time for him anymore.

When Pete got to the hospital he was frantically trying to find information. The front desk was no use, and triage was even worse: threatening to call security unless Pete sat his ass down. It was only when he intercepted a passing nurse, babbling about the phone call, holding his spare clothes for Patrick that he'd been ordered to bring. She guided him to a quiet waiting room and said she'd be back to find out what was happening. He wasn't left for long, only enough time to grab a plastic cup of thin coffee from the machine in the corner.

"He's still in with the doctor at the moment, but I'll tell him you're here," the nurse told him when she came back, but Pete shook his head. He wouldn't be left again.

"What's happened? Why has he called me?" he asked. He was probably coming on too strong, but he was desperate. It must be bad, surely, if Patrick thought to ask for Pete over anyone else.

"I'll let you know when he's ready to see you." Pete was left alone at that. He headed over to the coffee machine and drank some more of the watery gloop, until it burned in the back of his throat. He didn't know what was going on. Last he heard Patrick was away on tour. Having fun in his brand new life and leaving Pete behind in the dirty memories of the past. He finally got called to see Patrick an hour later, though they still wouldn't say what was going on. It was different nurse this time, older with wiry gray hair.

"He's a little shaken, but he can have a shower when he's ready. The police are here, but he's not wanting to speak to them, " she told him as they sat in the hard chairs. He wanted to hold her hand and cry, but he kept them tucked between his knees as he looked at her in earnest. Something about this made him feel sick, like something was terribly terribly wrong.

“What happened to him? No one has said anything,” Pete said, but she just gave him a sympathetic look.

“He can explain what he wants when we take you to him.” Pete nodded, like he understood. He took a breath and followed her down a corridor to a quieter examination room, she left him at the entrance, letting him head in alone.

Patrick was sitting on the hospital bed in a flimsy gown. He was so short that his feet dangled high off the ground and his toes were curled in. Pete knew how much he hated to be barefoot, and that's what struck him the most. He was so small, so much smaller now that he was before. He had never been all that broad, but he'd been soft and round for a long time. Patrick had always been so much more put together than Pete, more mature, but he'd been so young and puppy-like when they first met that Pete always saw him as a kid. He looked more like one now than he had in years.

When he looked at Patrick, he saw dark bruises up his bare arms, dotted with fingerprints. When Patrick finally lifted his head he saw purple along his neck too and a bruised cut mouth.

"Patrick..." Pete started, dropping the bag and heading to the bed when he saw Patrick's face crumple. "What happened?"

"I'm sorry," Patrick was saying beneath breaths, falling against Pete and sobbing as Pete wrapped his arms around him. "This is all my fault."

Patrick was in hysterics, voice scratchy as he sobbed. Pete held him, weirded out because Patrick never got like this. He'd always been sensitive and cried pretty often, but it was usually quiet and he would go to a bathroom or his bunk if he really wanted to let it out. Pete couldn't help the strangeness of holding someone he had considered a best friend for years yet had had barely any communication with recently. Even though Patrick was a lot thinner now, it felt the same. It was still sandy blond hair under his hands and thin fingers curling into his shirt. He remembers getting Patrick drunk for the first time, ten years back, and being in a similar position. Patrick hadn't reacted well to the cheap beer Pete had shoved down his throat and forced Pete into soothing his crying jag.

"Patrick, what happened?" Pete asked, pulling back slightly when Patrick calmed down. He was shaking still, even as the sobs had settled somewhat. He'd been choked if the bruises around his neck were anything to go by. Pete could feel his blood boiling at the thought of someone hurting his friend like this. No one touches Patrick like that, not ever. Not even when they weren't speaking.

“I…. Can I take a shower? They said I could. I need to. Need to get it off,” Patrick slurred. There was a wet room behind a door in the corner and Pete nodded his head, feeling shock settle into his bloodstream.

“Yeah the nurse said you could.” Pete didn't push Patrick into telling him what happened. He had a clue, from Patrick's need to shower and the bruises on his body. He wanted to vomit, but held back. “I grabbed some clothes from home. I'll wait out here.”

Pete looked away as Patrick pulled out of his grip. He was limping a little, feet curled up against the cold tiled floor. The shower was running almost immediately and Pete got his phone out. There was only ever one person he'd phone in a crisis like this and he opened Andy's number, typing out a quick message.

_Patrick's at the hospital… cn't say much only, but hes nt rite. Call u tomorrow._

_If you need me at yours I can fly in_ was Andy's response and Pete sent a thanks. Andy was calm in a crisis and Patrick always responded well to him. Pete needed to figure this shit out; he may need Andy if it was to become too much for him to handle.

When Patrick didn't reappear after twenty minutes, Pete started to worry. He knocked on the door, but did get any response so he tried to the lock. It was open. He called Patrick's name, but it was still quiet. It was only when he drew back the shower curtain that Patrick flinched back, falling into the wall. Pete tried to avert his eyes for Patrick's sake, but he saw more bruising on Patrick's thighs before he grabbed the towel.

“Come out of the water, man. You're gonna burn.“

“Can't get clean enough.” Patrick's voice shook and echoed as Pete leaned behind him to turn the water off. Pete wrapped the towel over Patrick's shoulders and walked Patrick gently into the main room again.

“I have track pants, a hoodie, socks… shit, forgot sneakers.” Pete squeezed his eyes shut, feeling his friend shake beneath his hands. “I've got some in the car though.”

“They bagged my clothes for evidence,” Patrick said. He used the back of his wrist to wipe against his cheekbone. His wrists had bruises like someone had pinned him in place. Pete felt sick with fury, but he held the clothes out to Patrick. “I wasn't wearing shoes.”

“I could probably steal some from lost property?” That got a small smirk from Patrick, but then he shook his head, clutching at his skull and making a soft noise.

“This isn't happening to me. I didn't… I can't.” His breathing starts to stagger and his nails bit tiny pink crescents into his temples. Pete was at a loss over how to help, but he grabbed the towel around Patrick's shoulders and rubbed him with it.

“Bronx loves it when I dry him off like this.” Pete said, rubbing Patrick's shoulders but not anywhere else. Patrick stayed still, taking shallow breaths.

“I bet you're a good dad.”

Pete was taken aback, biting down on his own lip. “I think I got better when Ash and I broke up. Funny how it goes. “

“Yeah,” Patrick nodded. He let Pete help him get dressed, even if he flinched and pulled faces every time he stretched to one side. He looked like a little kid, swamped in Pete's clothes. Pete had gained a little muscle since his divorce, and preferred baggier clothes when he wasn't facing the cameras. Patrick felt thinner than he ought to, but Pete put it to the back of his mind. There were more pressing circumstances.

“I guess I should get a doctor to sign you out. Make sure you have any medication or anything. I dunno. Are the cops involved?“

“No cops,” Patrick said. “I just want this over with.” He was starting to panic again and so Pete left a hand on Patrick's shoulder. Shoulder was a safe spot, Patrick had recoiled hard when Pete had touched the small of his back a second earlier.

“No cops, okay. I'll just go find someone, alright? “Pete said, to which Patrick nodded, shuffling to the back corner of the room. He wasn't sitting down much and Pete tried not to think too hard about the reasons why. It took a bit of time to find someone to actually help, but eventually Pete found Patrick's doctor and she walked with him back into the room.

Patrick signed himself out, nodding his head to her conversation. She explained about his pain medication, that he should stay with Pete, and recommended some therapists and counseling if he wanted it. Patrick nodded, but went stiff when she explained that they'd hold onto the evidence for six months if he changed his mind. Pete thanked her, but then they were left alone again.

“Are you in a hotel at the moment? “ Pete asked when she left, Patrick had a baggie of meds clutched tight in his hand, his chin tucked into the top of his hoodie.

“No I have a place. I don't think I can go back there. I'm so fucking dumb.” Patrick berated himself but Pete shook his head.

“Don't sweat it, you can stay with me. It's nice. It's smaller than the last place, but I dunno.” Pete tailed off when he realized he was rambling. He held a hand out to Patrick, who hesitated before taking it. They took a slow shuffle across the hospital, Pete was aware that Patrick was shoeless, but this wasn't the worst hospital to be shoe-free in.

“Can't believe you still drive cars like this,” Patrick said as they made it to the black SUV. Patrick hesitated before climbing up, sitting awkwardly in the passenger side. “We're not rock stars anymore.”

“I'm living in a dream world, Lunchbox.” Pete watched Patrick's face fall at the old nickname and he stumbled over an apology, still hovering in the passenger side doorway.

“It's okay. I like it,” Patrick gave an empty laughed and then flopped back, shoulders resting against the back of the seat. “Did you say you had sneakers in here? My feet are cold.”

“Sure. I've got some of Bronx’s here too. They might fit your tiny feet better,” Pete joked, pulling his running shoes from the back. He's not sure they'd do much to keep Patrick's feet warm, but he put them on his friend all the same. It was too much like dressing his own son, holding onto Patrick's ankles as he shoved his feet into the sneakers. He tied them up diligently, feeling Patrick's eyes on him.

“Thank you,” Patrick whispered. Pete stepped away and shut the door, Hating himself when he saw how hard Patrick flinched. He cursed under his breath, heading around to the driver's seat.

He pulled away in silence. Patrick was sitting strangely, his weight on his left side and his hands pressed between the seat and his ass. It made Pete's heart ache in a million different ways.

“Do you split custody? “ Patrick asked when they'd been driving for twenty minutes. “I wanted to get in contact, you know, but I couldn't.”

“You were busy with your career, I don't blame you for staying away. I was… I was no good, Patrick. But I'm better now, I'm good. And yeah, we split it.” Pete turned left, back on familiar ground. “What about you? “

“My record did pretty bad. I dunno. I was doing pretty bad and now I… “ Patrick took in another shuddering breath. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm such a fucking awful friend.”

“You're not a bad friend, dude. We needed a break from everything. I see it now.” Pete pulled into his driveway. “You're safe here with me. I promise.”

“Thank you.” Patrick nodded his head as Pete stopped the car and unclipped both their seat belts. Pete opened Patrick's door, but let him clamber down himself like a child. His hands were shaking, but Pete didn't pay it any attention, Patrick had always been proud in the past, he didn't want to make him feel weaker than he already felt.

“You're gonna need to eat something with those painkillers.” Pete keyed in the code and opened his door to Patrick, walking him in. He showed Patrick the way to the kitchen and Patrick stood stock still.

“I can't eat, can't drink. I've been a mess for so long. I can't, I can't…” Patrick grabbed at his hair again, trying to yank it out as he broke down into sobs again. Pete panicked a few steps away, unsure of how to fix this, how to fix this kid that he always promised to look after. Patrick was in his late twenties now, but he still seemed so young compared to Pete.

“You wanna just watch a movie together? I'm no good in a crisis. We both know this.” Pete dropped his head pathetically, but he heard Patrick agree to it. He grabbed some juice from the refrigerator, guiding Patrick down the hallway and to the den.

He sat down first, letting Patrick take a seat beside him, a conservative gap between them both. His hands were still shaking, and he rested on top of a cushion to stop the pressure. Pete flicked around, the TV had been left on Mario Kart from Bronx early in the day, but his _Lord of the Rings_ boxset was in the DVD player so he turned that on.

Patrick didn't speak again, his eyes weren't even on the screen whenever Pete looked over. They were staring somewhere else, somewhere Pete couldn't even contemplate.

Pete fell asleep on the couch part way through _The Two Towers._ Patrick had been rigid as anything and didn't look like sleeping anytime soon. When Pete awoke to a black screen and sunlight filtering through the windows he had a stiff neck and no Patrick in sight.

He heard noises from the closest bathroom and figured he'd let Patrick alone for the time being. He found the bag of meds in the kitchen and went through it. Pete was fairly adept in uppers and downers, and Patrick had a script of naprosyn, ceftriaxone, and a mild sedative. He didn't know of the middle one, but his own history was pretty vast when it came to prescription meds. He knew the sedative wouldn't do much for Patrick.

He put some coffee in the pot and stared at some bread before he knocked softly on the door of the bathroom. He opened the door when Patrick didn't answer and found his friend sitting in the tub, knees drawn to his chest, shaking enough that Pete rushed to put his hand in the water, worried that Patrick was sitting in cold water. It was lukewarm and Patrick was crying, tears rolling down his cheek, down his chin and dropping into the bathwater.

“I think you've overdone your bathing today, ” Pete said, tapping Patrick's hand gently. His fingers were like prunes, holding tight to his knees.

“Can't get clean. Can't get it off me.” Patrick's voice was raspier than last night, the bruises having settled over his vocal chords. His lips were shredded past the point of chapping; the corners split as if...well. Pete didn't want to imagine.

Patrick's crying jag was more or less over with by the time Pete got him out of the tub and into some dry clothes. All of his clothes look terrible on Patrick, too loose and shapeless, but it was all he could do for now. Patrick had been thin by the time the band called it quits, but they hadn't really been friends at that point and any clothes of Patrick's that Pete could possibly have hanging around would be miles too big.

“When do you get Bronx again?” Patrick asked shakily. He was sat at the breakfast bar, a cup of coffee curled in his hands. He'd managed to eat half a slice of toast, choking on it slightly before it slid down in throat. He'd started to grimace and choke, and Pete through his idiocy, realized feeding Patrick dry toast on a bruised throat was a bad idea.

“I only gave him back yesterday so in a few days. I'm like a weekend dad now, sucks big time.” It was never going to not hurt. He hadn't exactly been attentive right after Bronx's birth, wallowing too much in self pity and his own mental decline, and really, Ashlee leaving him had made him grow some balls and be a true father.

“I just didn't want to cut into you time, but I just. There's no one else I could think of calling. No one else I could bare to explain this to even though we barely talk.”

“We'd talk more if you ever responded to my emails,” Pete said, which made Patrick laugh. He'd always been so shit at that, it wasn't personal, or not any more personal than anything else that had happened. “I haven't said a word to anyone. I told Andy you were in the hospital, but not anything about what happened. Just so that he was on standby. He's good whenever things go to shit.”

“He'd be so disappointed if he knew,” Patrick whispered, choking again. Pete poured juice from the pitcher and passed it to Patrick, who drank it down fast and hard. When he placed the glass down on the bar, he looked up at Pete with red-rimmed eyes. “Do you know what happened?”

“You couldn't do anything to disappoint Hurley. The nurses didn't tell me anything, but I'm not an idiot. I put it all together,” Pete said, and then tried to think of a way around certain things. He knew nothing of Patrick's life any more. “Do you know who did this?”

Patrick nodded his head, pushing his fingers into his eyes. “I didn't expect it. I'm so stupid.”

“Doesn't make you stupid, but uh, are you sure you don't want the police involved. I want that son-of-a-bitch to pay for this.” Pete tried to keep the venom out of his voice, but he couldn't and Patrick peeked through his fingers at Pete.

“I thought about it...I let them do the kit at the hospital but it was so fucking horrible, I felt sick. It was like it was happening again, but it was dragged out and I couldn't go to a trial or anything like that. I just want to forget about it. I thought I was going to die.”

“Well, you're safe now, no one is gonna touch you. You can recover here as long as you want. I'm the least busy guy in the world, don't worry, okay?” Pete walked over to Patrick and hugged him tight, feeling him shake again. “You've got a script for a sedative, but I've probably got something stronger kicking around. It might help you sleep.”

“I couldn't last night, every time I shut my eyes I feel it starting again,” Patrick whispered against Pete. He was squeezing tight to Pete's wrist, enough that he'd leave bruises. “So stupid.”

Pete pulled away as Patrick berated himself under his breath once more. He went over to Patrick's meds again and pulled out the bottles. Pete was great with meds, with knowing exactly how to mix them to get the best cocktail. Patrick didn't need to start on that shit, but Pete probably had a Valium kicking around the place that would help for now. Or some codeine that would deal with the pain and put him to sleep.

“Take this,” Pete said, when he found an old pack of codeine in a medicine cabinet. Patrick had always been clean; the most he'd take was Tylenol for a headache and whatever ADHD meds he was currently on. He was a good kid, and Pete was fairly sure he'd feel drowsy enough to doze with a couple of these.

“Do you think I could stay here for a while?” Patrick asked, to which Pete nodded his head. He thought they'd already agreed on that. “Then I'm gonna need you to pick some clothes up for me. I hate this.” Patrick looked down; even in a crisis he was finicky about clothes. Even when it was godawful sweater vests and Argyle, it was something Patrick had spent time thinking about putting together. “It's just-- I can't go back there. It's where it happened... I don't ever want to go back there.”

“You got a key?” Pete said and Patrick nodded, saying it should be in Pete's car. “I'll get your stuff,” Pete promised, dropping two pills into Patrick's hand. “Take this for me though. It'll put you out and I'll be back when you wake up then.”

Patrick's blue eyes stared into Pete's, boring deep before he nodded his head. He swallowed them down with his juice, before staring down. “Don't forget my shoes, or I really will have to borrow some off Bronx.”

He helped settled Patrick down in his own bedroom, laying down with him. He was ready for Patrick to start crying again, but he laid quietly, eyes glassy. He took to the drugs quickly, too weak to fight it off and Pete just stroked Patrick's hair softly until he was finally asleep.

Pete cried in the car, shock finally hitting him, that someone had hurt Patrick, really hurt him. Patrick had always been sensitive to comments about his looks or his weight, but this was so much more than petty nastiness. Pete hadn't cried for anyone else in so long that he was exhausted by the time his GPS had him pulling up outside Patrick's apartment complex.

It was a shock to be hit with so much Patrick when he made it into Patrick's unit. He hadn't had so much full on Patrick-ness in so long that it took his breath away slightly. The Bowie photo he bought Patrick all those years ago hung on the wall, and there was vinyl everywhere. Pete didn't see a single recognizable band or artist but that was so Patrick too. If Pete bothered to find a player, he'd know it'd be awful funk that should've stayed in the seventies. They hadn't been close in years now, but he knew his friend through and through.

What he did recognize, past the vinyls and the artwork, was that the place had been trashed. Beyond Patrick's natural messiness. A glass coffee table was smashed to pieces, an acoustic guitar bent in two in the corner. The fact that Patrick had a fondness for potpourri would've been funny to Pete if it wasn't for the fact it was laying all over the rug, rubbed in by footprints in some places.

“Jesus, Patrick,” Pete muttered, his eyes catching on the kitchen. It shocked him how well kept it was. Whoever did what they did to Patrick and his apartment, clearly didn't care to touch the kitchen. There was a bowl and spoon still drying on the rack; the refrigerator buzzing obliviously.

The bedroom door was ajar and Pete could already see the mess of it before he stepped fully into the room. The comforter, gray and blue, was on the floor, as were two of the pillows. The other two were sprawled in the center of the bed. There was blood on the bottom sheet, dotted around and the corner of the sheet had been pulled from the mattress, as if someone had been desperately clawing at it. The bedside lamp was smashed, glass glittering over the stained linen. It was awful, but somehow Pete expected worse. Expected to come in and see the memory of what happened play over and over.

He didn't waste time and grabbed the suitcase from inside the first closet he opened. He ignored the neat little suits lined up, and instead went for polo shirts and cardigans. There was an entire drawer filled with what looked like the same brand of skinny black jeans. Patrick was odd like that, but Pete grabbed four of them as well as underwear and socks. Patrick was a firm pajama guy, so Pete found a couple of sets too, as well as the old fur-worn teddy he'd smuggled on every tour. He hadn't been like Pete, who wanted to flaunt his childishness. Patrick had been genuinely embarrassed about bringing the old bear with him. Pete dumped him in the bag too and went into the bathroom.

He grabbed Patrick's toothbrush and his shaving kit, but he was pretty low maintenance and didn't have much in the way of necessities. His ADHD meds were on the basin and Pete grabbed those too before shutting the light off. He only stopped in the living room once more to salvage Patrick's laptop before he was leaving the place. He'd never been gladder to leave anywhere. On his way back to his house he called the cleaning service he used and asked them to clear up Patrick's place. They were discreet and wouldn't ask questions. He told them to book a storage unit and move everything else in there. He knew Patrick wouldn't ever want to go back and he probably wouldn't let him if he did.

Pete half expected to find Patrick in the bathroom again when he got back, but as it was, he was still in Pete's bed. The codeine had done a solid on Patrick and he was barely moving, though his eyes were open. Pete fell on the bed against him and slept solidly himself for a few hours. It had been an eventful twenty four hours.


	2. Chapter 2

Skyping with Bronx just made Pete miss his kid even more. He was smart, funny, and so fucking cute. Patrick was showering again, and even though he’d been in there for almost an hour again, Pete was letting him deal with it alone as he spent time with his kid. When Bronx got bored and wandered off, Ashlee shot into view and Pete knew he ought to say something.

“Patrick’s here. He’s…he’s gonna be staying here for a while. Just thought you should know in case Bronx mentions it,” Pete said. Co-parenting was alright, really, if they were both in a charitable mood. Ashlee must have been in one as she simply nodded her head, grinning slightly.

“That’s good. You know he and I had our differences, but you work better with him around.” Pete never thought it was _that_ bad, really. Patrick had never said a bad word about her, and simply kept out of her way. His own awkward shyness had maybe come across as snobbiness to Ashlee, who could fill an empty silence with a novel of nothingness in no time.

“I didn't realize how much I missed him until I saw him again,” Pete admitted, laughing when Ashlee did.

“I get that.” Her voice changed slightly. Years ago he’d have known what that meant, but in that moment he had no clue. They said their goodbyes and hung up. Patrick wandered into Pete's living room ten minutes later with wet hair, but in his own pajamas.

“You needed another shower? “ Pete asked casually, watching Patrick sit down.

“It feels better at first, but then I just feel dirty again. I'm never gonna get clean again.” Patrick shut his eyes. “I'll pay your next water bill.”

Pete laughed too hard at that and almost saw Patrick smile a little. “I'm having my cleaners come clear your place out. They're discreet with all the shit they've seen between me and Ash. They never leaked anything so it'll be fine. The rest of your stuff can go into storage for now.”

“Thanks,” Patrick said. “Don't think I could ever repay you.”

“Eh, you spent a hell of a lot of your youth cleaning up after me,” Pete shrugged, putting a hand on Patrick's shoulder. There was a lot of shit that Patrick helped bury over the years, and Pete wasn't in the mood to be bringing it up.

“I don't know...”

“How's the pain?” Pete changed the subject. Patrick had been sitting with more ease at least, even if the bruises horrified him. His mouth was still ripped to pieces too. Pete wanted to kill whoever did this whenever he caught sight of Patrick gingerly licking the corner of his mouth to soothe the pain.

“Okay. My throat hurts but… the rest of it is manageable. I can still see the hands on me, where I was held down and it just makes it worse.” Patrick stared down at his bared arms, bruised to a deep purple in places.

“I know,” Pete said, even though he didn't. He wouldn't ever know. “Is there anything that would help?”

“I keep thinking about yesterday, about how this time yesterday I was fine. This time yesterday I was still the Patrick I'd always been. I keep counting down the hours past when it happened.”

“You're still Patrick.”

“Am I? It doesn't feel like it.” Patrick sounded close to the edge, enough that Pete stroked the back of his hand gently. “I just want to get out of here. I just want to… I don't know. I want to find Narnia in the shower.”

“You ain't gonna find Narnia in my shower but uh, if you want to go somewhere we probably can.” Patrick's face shut down as he closed his eyes. “I can't go too far right now because of Bronx, but we have a cabin a few hours away. We could go there for a few days. Recuperate… we get a phone signal, but there's no Internet, there'll be hardly anyone else around. Do you have anything you need to do if we go?”

“I don't have a contract anymore. I don't… I guess the hospital will contact me with my results, but I have nothing else.” Patrick looked down at his knees, rubbing at a worn patch of soft cotton plaid. “I'd like it, to go there. Maybe. Maybe I won't cry so much.”

“A cabin won't solve your problems but it's quiet, it's good scenery. I can teach you how to fish.” Pete elbowed Patrick softly, feeling his friend jolt slightly.

Patrick pretended that he didn't flinch, even if he didn't lift his eyes once to Pete. “When did you learn to fish?”

“Vacation with the Simpson family. It was either teach myself to fish or interact with the In-laws,” Pete admitted. Patrick winced, but he nodded his head.

“How far away is it? I can't sit long uh…”

“Couple of hours tops. We can take breaks, it's fine, but you sleep well in cars anyway. I remember from life in our van. If we drive through the night we can catch the sunrise.”

“Okay,” Patrick said, and then nodded. “I'll go.”

Pete throws a few things in a bag and calls Ashlee again, saying he's heading to the cabin and he hoped to be back Saturday to pick Bronx up. She was unusually co-operative, but Pete didn't care to bug her about it for now.

Patrick was waiting for Pete, still dressed in his pajama pants, Pete's hoodie and his own beanie and sneakers. He looked a wreck, he looked like the worst version of Patrick that he'd ever seen.

“I'm ready to go,” Patrick said. His hair looked damp beneath the hat, but Pete didn't mention anything and just grabbed both their bags and headed out to the car, Patrick shuffling behind him.

They stop for McDonald's on the way. Pete almost buying a happy meal for Bronx by default before swapping it for a veggie burger for them both. Patrick made attempts to eat it, picking at the fries as Pete drove one handed, shoving the rest in his mouth.

“Banana milkshake like old times,” Pete said, pointing at Patrick's drink in the cup holder. He smiled down at it.

“I stopped with the milkshakes. They made me gain weight like crazy,” Patrick said, voice shaking. “That doesn't even feel like me, none of this feels like me and it's only been a day.”

“Exactly,” Pete repeated, pulling away onto the highway. “It's only been a day.”

The rocking of the car and the lights blurring through the windows sent Patrick to sleep, though whenever Pete looked over he didn't look at peace. He wondered if Patrick would ever find peace again after this. He'd always been so pure in his naivety; nice to the point of suffering.

Pete drove solidly, not stopping for fear of waking Patrick, but eventually he pulled into the familiar route he took with Bronx last summer.

“Patrick?” Pete touched his friends sleeping face, shutting his eyes when Patrick jumped back from the touch, head slamming into the window. “We're here.”

“I slept the whole way? “ Patrick asked, wincing and touching his throat. He must be due his meds soon. Pete opened the door and grabbed the bags from the trunk. It was still too dark, but Pete could see the inky black lake in the near distance.

Patrick was sucking on the remains of his milkshake as Pete unlocked the cabin. It smelled musty, but looked exactly as Pete left it. Dated, but with a tub of Lego near the leather couch and a cheap TV set in the corner.

“There's two double bedrooms, pick whatever one you want,” Pete said, and then yawned, suddenly feeling the long drive hit him. “But let me know so I can go crash.”

“Go for whatever’s normal and I'll take the other. I wanna wash up first.” Patrick laughed sadly, toes turning inward. Pete didn't question it, if it helped Patrick, he could take as many showers as he wanted.

“This one's mine.” Pete wrapped on the door behind him, opening it up. “Come find me if you need anything, seriously Patrick.”

“Sure,” Patrick said. His eyes were wet again, but he was blinking it away. “Get some rest, Pete. Thanks for this.”

Pete batted his hand at his friend, but then he was closing the door. He fell onto cold sheets and slid into a heavy doze.

Pete awoke to the sound of whirring. At first he assumed it was the shower running, that he'd find Patrick crying in the bathroom again. It sounded more wooshier than that, and then recognized it for the washer and dryer. He rubbed at his face, wondered if maybe he'd grabbed clothes for Patrick that made him feel dirty too.

He walked into the main room and saw Patrick, white as anything sitting crossed legged on the couch, in fresh pajama pants and Pete's hoodie still.

“You doing the laundry?“ Pete laughed, falling into the couch. Patrick was as firm as a washboard beside Pete, and when he looked at the black bags beneath his eyes he frowned harder. “Did you get any sleep?”

“I slept on the drive over, I slept on that pill you gave me yesterday. I don't need to do anymore fucking sleeping!” Patrick spat before wincing and touching his throat again. Pete was older now and got that not every sharp comment needed a retort, that Patrick wasn't mad at him. “I don't think I was asleep, but it felt like a nightmare. Like it was happening again. I could feel it happening and I couldn't stop it. I couldn't do anything. I couldn't stop it happening again and again.”

“It can't happen to you again. No one is going to let it. It's just a nightmare. Sleep with me if you need to, I don't know. Whatever makes you feel better.”

“I had an accident…” Patrick said and then dropped his face into his hands. “Christ. This has fucked me up.”

It clicked suddenly why Patrick was doing laundry. “Oh shit, don't worry about that. It doesn't matter, alright? It's just a reaction.”

“I haven't pissed my pants since I was six,” Patrick said, pulling his hands away. He was bright red and couldn't look Pete in the eye. “It's so embarrassing.”

“It's just your body going into shock. It's more the nightmare than you pissing yourself, you know?” Pete said, wondering when he got so wise. “I'm gonna call Andy later. I called him when we were at the hospital. Is it okay if I explain things to him?”

Patrick gave Pete a sidelong look before nodding his head. “He'd be so disappointed in me.”

“Why would you say that? Patrick, you were assaulted, Andy is the last person to blame you for that.”

Patrick licked at the corner of his broken mouth again. “You can tell him, but I don't want to see anyone, not yet.”

“That's why we're here, so no one can find us.” Pete was trying really hard to keep his own panic at bay, but it was hard. He was treading water in a sea that he had no understanding of.

Pete called Andy when Patrick was in the shower again. It was going to be an issue eventually, the way Patrick was constantly showering every few hours. They were long ones too and he always came out bright red.

“Is everything alright?” Andy asked softly. It was light now, late morning and Pete was standing near the car, staring at the bright lake, the sun glittering off it like a giant mirror.

“Not really. I got a call from the hospital saying Patrick asked for me and uh. He's been assaulted, like uh. You know, by a man.” There was pause, like Andy was taking it in. Pete couldn't fit his mouth to say the word rape. Not yet.

Eventually Andy's voice came back in, though it was thin. “Who did it?”

“He says he knows the guy, but when I went to his apartment it was trashed like a break in. I haven't even seen him in years now, but Jesus he isn't the same kid. He looks so different and I don't know how to help him. I've got a cabin that we're staying at to get away from LA, but I don't know what I'm doing. I'm giving out all this advice to him but I can't process any of this.”

“Jesus Christ. When he's okay, I'll come and see him. How long are you down there for?” Andy's voice came through a little stronger and it soothed Pete. There was a reason he always called him when he needed calming.

“A few days, just to get him out if LA for a bit. They tried to choke him, whatever fucker did this. He's got bruises all around his neck, up and down his arms; everywhere else you can imagine. He's finally able to sit down, but who would do this to him? Patrick wouldn't hurt a fly.”

“I don't have any answers. Just look after him, Pete. Take care of him and heal him. This could be a way for you both to reconnect.” It sounded crude to tack the last part on, but Pete didn't call Andy out on it. They just hung up and he built up the strength to head back inside.

Pete had only really seen Patrick in dark light since the hospital. They'd been sleeping during the day, at odd times, and his own lighting at home was dim and calming. Patrick looked awful in it, but out in pure sunlight he looked even worse. His skin was yellow beneath the bruises and he had circles beneath his eyes, sinking into dark purple.

“You gonna teach me to fish? “ Patrick said, when he caught Pete staring. Pete looked away, but nodded.

“Never been this time of year, but let's see what we get.” Pete grabbed the shit from beneath the sink. It had been awesome in the summer trying it out with Bronx. He was still too small to get much joy out of fishing with his dad, but they had fun together.

“Why did you want me?” Pete asked, when they were sitting by the lake in their two chairs, Pete with the rod between his legs. “We haven't spoken in years properly and then I get a phone call saying you asked for me.”

“I guess you never forget who your best friend is? I dunno. They were doing all these examinations on me and they said I should make a phone call and you were the only person I could imagine telling.” Patrick swallowed. “I'm starting to think maybe it didn't happen. Maybe I just got things confused.”

“That's not the case at all,” Pete said firmly. “It happened and it was the worst thing, but it happened.”

“But it might not be that bad,” Patrick said. “I'm overreacting. I made you come out here, ruin your life and your time with your son for what? So I could piss in your bed and use up all your water.”

“At least you can't get pregnant, I guess. There's an upside,” Pete said, to which Patrick laughed, though he tucked it behind his hand and had terribly sad eyes.

“I'm on antibiotics, just in case I caught gonorrhea.” Patrick looked down and Pete winced, knowing he'd said the wrong thing. Bad jokes were his thing. “It makes me feel disgusting knowing I could have all these vile things wrong with me. I could get HIV, I let it happen.”

“You didn't let anything happen,” Pete said for what he was sure was the billionth time. There was a sudden tug on his fishing rod and he turned the wheel, steadying himself as he brought up the fish. As he wound his line in, the fish flopped around, gasping and shuddering. Pete always hated that part and when he looked over at Patrick, he was staring blank faced and pale at the dying fish. He untied the hook from the fish and quickly threw it back into the water, away from view. Maybe fishing was a bad idea.

They went for a walk later that day. There was scattered trees by the cabin and ordinarily, if it was four years ago, Pete would’ve made a joke about never coming out of this walk alive. Considering the circumstances, and his recent bad joke, he held his tongue.

“It doesn't feel uncomfortable,” Pete started to say. His voice was soft, but it carried louder with the trees. Mostly there was just the sound of crunching, of their feet walking over branches and roots. “I mean, us being together. After all this time and uneasiness that passed…. It feels okay, right?”

Patrick nodded silently. “I guess there was a reason I wanted you. I wouldn't feel comfortable with anyone else. I couldn't let anyone else know.”

“No one else will ever have to know. It's all on you,” Pete said. They'd reached the furthest Pete thought they should turn and so he twisted on his heels and pointed back the way they came. “I'm sure I've got something edible back in the cabin. Something from a can probably.”

“Canned food is fine,” Patrick said. He held his hand out and looped it over Pete's arm. He was shaking again, but Pete said nothing. “In the past, when I've been depressed I've always eaten to the point of well… unhealthiness, but ever since the failure of my solo stuff, I just haven't been eating. I just sit there in my apartment going stir crazy. Thinking things over and over.”

“Thinking of what?”

“Everything,” Patrick said. He turned to look at Pete, then down again. “All of it. The band, being so young and seeing so much. Ruining everything for everyone.”

Pete laughed softly, feeling Patrick's fingers curl tight to his arm. “What did you ruin?”

“I was the one that quit. You didn't want it to end,” Patrick said softly again. “I ruined everything for everyone. And now everything's gone to shit.”

“Stop talking like that. I think I'd probably be dead if you hadn't closed things off. Now I'm … I'm like this domesticated dad, and I'm okay with it. It took a few years, but I'm okay with it now.” Pete could see the cabin in the opening of the trees and he was glad for it. “I was never mad at you.”

“That's a lie,” Patrick said. “There was a time when you weren't answering _my_ emails.”

“I wasn't even talking to my wife back then and we were still married. Don't take it to heart,” Pete responded and he stroked his friend's hand gently. “You want me to put something on the hob when we get back?”

“Soup maybe, yeah. I need to take a shower first, though.” Patrick hesitated, like he thought Pete would call him out on it, but he didn't. He could pretend that a twenty minute walk in the forest was enough to exert Patrick enough to clean up again.

When they were back at the cabin Pete fussed around in the kitchen and Patrick had another shower. He'd promised Pete that he'd take no longer than fifteen minutes. Pete had tomato soup on the hob when Patrick came out with damp hair and pink skin, rubbing Vaseline over his sore lips.

“Tomato soup for the soul?” Patrick said and he almost laughed, tucking his feet under himself as he sat down. “You sure I can sleep in the same room as you tonight? Or is that weird?”

“We've done weirder,” Pete responded. They'd been rock stars for years, starting from the ground up. Patrick had been a baby and dependable. Pete had depended on him way too much. “It's fine. It'll be like a sleepover.”

“I remember when you used to sneak into my bedroom when we first met. You'd pass out all over my homework and wake up just to talk about how shitty college was.” Patrick was smiling genuinely and it made Pete too. “Mom would always think I was talking to myself up there until she discovered you.”

“How is your mom?” Pete sat next to Patrick at the table, placing the bowls down in front of them both. “She still in Glenview?”

“Yeah. She's okay, she's the same. I sort of want to see her really badly, but that would mean explaining what happened and that would be horrendous. I wouldn't want her knowing.” Patrick stirred his soup over and over before blowing tentatively on the hot spoon.

“You could just tell her you got mugged or something.” Pete was already halfway through his soup before he saw Patrick attempt to start eating it. “Is the soup okay?”

“It's fine… I could do with another milkshake actually. Sort of craving one. It helps my throat more,” Patrick said continuing with it. He got part way through his dinner before he pushed it away. Pete still thought it was too soon to push him toward anything else.

They got ready for bed once the bowls were draining on the side. Neither had a great sleep schedule currently, and even though it was only just after nine pm, Pete was tired and Patrick was sluggish too. He just hoped he'd sleep better tonight. With no accidents.

Patrick managed to go without another shower, having only had one just before their dinner. Pete could feel the heat radiating off his friend though. He'd always been warm, kind of cuddly. There'd been a lot of late-night bunk snuggles in the past, back before it all went to shit.

“Thank you for bringing me here… maybe tomorrow we can walk around the lake?” Patrick said, he was curled on his side facing Pete. Pete wondered whether Patrick wanted to be held or not. Old Patrick definitely would have, but everything was warped now.

“Sure,” Pete said. “We may need to step into town and grab something fresh to eat, but it's really quiet and no one will recognize us.”

“I never get recognized anyway,” Patrick said. “I've always blended well into the background.”

“Not to me,” Pete answered quietly. In a room of people, Patrick had always been the one Pete would gravitate toward. “Get some sleep, okay?”

Patrick nodded, remaining on his side. He was restless for some time, breathing softly, but Pete was determined to remain awake until Patrick was asleep. He did fall asleep eventually, not long after Patrick's breathing evened out. He slept until he felt Patrick moving around and he touched his friend's arm, stroking down it gently. It settled Patrick, who was awake, but seemed confused.

Pete awoke again sometime in the early hours. It wasn't unusual for him. He slept now, which was more than before, but it was always in small increments. This time Patrick was asleep, forehead bumping against Pete's shoulder. Pete moved one hand around Patrick's shoulders so he was holding him slightly. It just seemed like the right thing to do. Pete held him like that for at least an hour before falling asleep again. When he woke up for the last time, they were in the same position, only this time Patrick was awake and crying silently, wetting Pete's shirt.

“It's okay, man,” Pete said, stroking Patrick's hair. “You're alright.”

“It's not… I just woke up like this. I don't even know what I'm crying about.” Patrick wiped his face on the back of his hand. “I'm sorry I'm all over you.”

“Don't worry about it, I like it. You've always been cuddly.” Patrick laughed, but he sat up. His face was pink, but creased from Pete's shirt.

“I'm going to take a shower, I think.” Pete let Patrick head off for the shower as he phoned Bronx from outside the cabin. They'd have to head home the next morning for Pete to pick his kid up. Hearing his son's baby soft voice through the speakers rooted Pete back in the real world, in a world that wasn't just Patrick. He wanted to see his son interact with his old friend, they had a right to know each other. When Pete was off the phone and heading back into the cabin, he could hear Patrick talking softly on his own cell.

“Yeah that's okay. I'll be there.” Patrick placed his phone on the table as Pete took a seat opposite him. “That was the hospital. I need to have a follow up on Tuesday.”

“Is there something wrong with your tests? “ Pete asked, praying that wasn't the case. Patrick couldn't be sick, not on top of everything else.

“She said they were clean, but I need to top up my vaccinations and talk about other help.” Patrick rolled his eyes, like it was a mild inconvenience. “Will you come with me?”

“Sure, if that's what you want.” Pete smiled at his friend and got another small one back.

They drove to the small town later that day, to grab some lunch. Patrick picked at his salad, sticking mostly to his milkshake. It wasn't McDonalds, but it was banana and he seemed happy enough with that. Pete ate his own burger with little grace, missing the taste of real food recently. He hadn't eaten properly since Patrick arrived.

“I'm picking Bronx up tomorrow morning. He's a pretty loud kid, so I should probably warn you, but I can try and contain him a little,” Pete said as they walked the sidewalk. They still felt in the middle of nowhere, like they'd traveled back forty years. It helped Pete, if not Patrick.

“He's three, right? There's no containing that age but it's good. I want to meet him, get to know him. He might take my mind off other things.” Patrick jumped suddenly, when a man laughed loudly behind them. He was on the phone and passed them briskly, but not before Patrick tucked himself behind Pete, hands over his ears as his breathing went to nothing, his whole body shaking.

“Patrick, it's okay. You're safe. It’s okay.” Patrick looked at Pete briefly  with unfocused eyes before he bent in half and puked up over their feet. Pete rubbed his friend's back, moving him gently from the puddle, aware that there were eyes on them from inside the restaurant they were standing outside. “We’ll go back to the car. We'll go back to the cabin.”

Patrick was silent all the drive back. His breathing hadn't intensified from his original panic and he was now almost a stiff rod, sitting frozen in the passenger side.

“You wanna have a nap or something? “ Pete said when they pulled up to the cabin but Patrick shook his head.

“You said we could walk around the Lake. I want to do that,” Patrick responded. Pete had barely locked the car before Patrick was holding onto his arm again and pulling him downhill toward the lake. Pete went along with it. “Can't believe I puked my lunch on the sidewalk like that.”

“You haven't been out in public since it happened. First man that isn't me and he comes at you from behind. It was just like an anxiety attack or something.”

“Thank you,” Patrick said suddenly, “for never using the word. I can't stomach it. I can't connect that happening to me.”

“I have a hard time with it too.” He noticed Patrick hadn't let go of his arm, that it was something he did often since they'd reconnected. He'd always been personable, but not to this extent. “It's gonna take a lot, but we'll get you through this.”

“So I can deal with a man talking behind me without puking. Jesus, what have I fucking done to myself. If I'd just fucking kept my--” Patrick closed his mouth, but squeezed his hand tight over Pete's arm. “Stupid piece of shit."

“Look how pretty the view is here.” Pete stopped, hand stroking Patrick's fingers fixed tight over his wrist. It was blue, so so blue, from the sky to the deep lake below. “Take deep breaths and look at where we are, don't think of anything else.”

Patrick stared around at the view, holding tight to Pete still, but his face softened from the tightness. He looked young again, brutally, so that Pete had to turn away and look back up to the direction of the cabin.

Pete started talking to Patrick that night, two of them on the veranda staring down at the view. Patrick had stolen the blanket for himself, tucking it over his shoulders as Pete's bare legs felt the chill. He didn't mind though, he liked feeling his friend against him, even under the worst circumstances.

“I'm gonna make it a thing. Every summer I'm gonna take Bronx to this cabin for a week. Have quality time together, make it special, you know? He's an LA kid, but I want him to have something a little back to basics. Like we did.”

“You were filthy rich as a kid,” Patrick pointed out. “Did you really have cute cabin vacations with your family?”

“I can dream I did.” Pete laughed, caught up in the moment. “I was always jealous of you. When you'd invite me over for dinner, listening to you and your family. Mine was never like that. Kevin and Megan would come back from college and tease the fuck out of you and you'd go all red in the face, but you weren't really mad. Plus your mom would make these fucking awesome dishes from scratch. I know your parents divorced, but they didn't seem to hate each other like mine did, even when they got back together. I dunno. It was like a family should be and it made me sad. Makes me want Bronx to have one like that.”

“I don't remember it being that idyllic, but it's good you guys have this time together. You could make a lot of memories here,” Patrick said, eyes scanning the view in front of him. “Thank you for bringing me here, even though I made such a scene in town.” He smiled small, dropping his head briefly onto Pete's shoulder. “I'll never forget what you've done. I'll never let anyone talk shit about you for what you've done for me.”

“You've always had my back,” Pete whispered, feeling overwhelmed. He wrapped an arm over Patrick's shoulder, feeling his friend's sadness and heat. “I dunno if I always had yours in the way that mattered, but you have me now.”

“I think there might be a lot you don't know about me,” Patrick said. His voice was starting to slur and Pete knew they'd need to head inside soon.

“I'm different too. We'll find it all out soon enough, relearn each other or whatever.” Pete shrugged, “But come on. Let's get inside. I'll let you blub all over me again. That's how decent I am these days.”

There was no crying the next day when Pete woke up, though Patrick still insisted on taking a forty minute shower, his skin pink as anything. His bruises looked a little softer today, turning from black to a dark purple. There'd be some explaining to do to Bronx, to whom Patrick would be a stranger; a very bruised one.

“Did you mean it when you said I could stay with you?” Patrick asked on the ride home. His hands twisted and turned on his lap, getting worse with every stretch of the road back to LA. “Because I really don't think I can go back to my place. I just don't want to get in your way.”

“You won't be in the way and I wouldn't want you going back there anyway. We discussed it already. We can have a permanent slumber party, you can even stay in my bed if it helps.”

“Even if I piss it?” Patrick asked, laughing slightly. He hadn't had any accidents since that time the first night in the cabin. Pete was certain it was a one-off, that it coincided with the shock.

“Sure. I'm excited for you to know Bronx, you'll love each other. He'll want you as his best bud for sure.” Pete turned again to see a small flicker of a smile on Patrick's face, even as his nails, cut down in the examination, pressed harder and harder into his own knuckles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kind comments and Kudos for the first chapter!
> 
> And thanks for reading :)


	3. Chapter 3

Patrick became increasingly more silent as they headed back home to Pete's house. The only time he did speak was when Pete said he was picking Bronx up for the weekend. Patrick made it clear that he didn't want to be left alone, enough so that Pete quickly told him he could come along for the ride. He told Patrick to stay in the car though, he needed to talk to Ashlee first.

Patrick did as he was told, but said Pete didn't need the car locked. He sat in the passenger side, arms crossed over his body. He was in Pete's hoodie again, hands tucked up until they were hidden in the sleeves.

Ashlee was waiting at the door, eyes bright and curious. She'd already spotted Patrick in the car. Pete could tell from the way her blue eyes kept darting over his shoulder, her eyebrow arched.

“Is he not coming in?” she said, turning on her heel and walking back into her house. She smelt light and florally, like the kind of perfume she'd never worn for Pete. They were both different now. Everyone seemed different now and Pete couldn't work out where they all fit together.

“No. He's in some trouble actually. He had an intruder in his house and got beat up badly. He's pretty shaky, that's why he's staying with me. I just wanted you to know, so Bronx doesn't freak you when he talks about it… because you know he'll talk about it.”

“If there was any other beaten person in your house I'd have issues with it, but as it's Patrick I'll make an exception. Bronx was tiny last he saw him,” she said before calling their son’s name. He came rushing from the living room, eyes lighting up when he saw Pete.

“Daddy!” he jumped at Pete, who picked his son up with ease. He wasn't really a toddler anymore, and it was kind of sad seeing him grow up so fast. Still, Pete's heart felt light just looking and holding his son. He was something that Pete could understand; he'd be the distraction from the situation Patrick had landed himself in.

“Daddy's got a special friend staying with him,” Ashlee said softly, touching her hand to the back of their son's head. “But he's sick so you're gonna have to help daddy look after him.”

“Cool!” Bronx giggled, always happy when there was a new audience to play up to. “Is he fun?”

“He is fun. I remember him when he wasn't much taller than you,” Pete joked, winking to Ashlee and grateful that Patrick was sitting in the car and unaware of the joke. “But he's had a bit of a sad time recently so he needs some quiet, okay? Bug me, not him if you want something.”

“Sure thing!" Bronx said, not really listening. “Bye Mama!”

“Good luck! See you Sunday,” Ashlee said, kissing Bronx on the cheek before picking his bag up and dropping it over Pete's shoulder. “Look after them both.”

Bronx was pretty quiet on the drive back to Pete's, though whenever he looked at his son in the mirror, he was staring at the back of Patrick's head from his car seat. Patrick was quiet too as they got back to the house, looking unsure as Bronx tore through the hallway and into his playroom.

“You wanna watch a movie or something? He'll come bug us in about five minutes. He'll be hungry.” Pete followed Patrick into the den. Maybe it would be too weird being Pete the Dad in front of Patrick, maybe it would make their fragile friendship awkward.

“I really don't want to cut into your time,” Patrick hesitated, but Pete shrugged. He took a breath and pushed past any weirdness.

“It's cool, seriously. We can watch _Ghostbusters_. I know it's your fave, and when Bronx hears the music he'll come running.”

“You rose a son to have good taste. Surprising.” Patrick's sarcastic side had been nonexistent since they'd been together the past few days. It felt so familiar though, like Pete could find his footing a little better as they crossed the weirdness.

“He's my son, Patrick!" Pete clicked his tongue, but grabbed at the disk from the shelf, swapping it into the player and falling against Patrick on the couch. It didn't take Bronx long at all to come scurrying in, a firetruck in his hand. He hesitated at first when he saw Patrick, but then climbed up beside Pete on the couch.

“You know, this is Patrick's favorite movie ever,” Pete said to Bronx, watching his curls bounce around to face Patrick.

“Mine too! “ Bronx said, which was a lie. He loved the _Smurfs_ more, but Pete didn't mind if it meant getting his two favorite people on side. If Patrick and Bronx got on, then maybe this wouldn't be so awkward.

“Good choice,” Patrick said, winking at Bronx who giggled.

It went better than expected. Patrick was good with Bronx, quiet, but he listened sincerely to the chattering of the three year old, the two of them settled on the couch.

“What happened to your face, Patrick?” Bronx asked quietly in the kitchen. They were eating grapes together as Pete loaded the dishwasher. The rest of the day had gone pretty smoothly, and Bronx managed to bring a smile to Patrick's face a few times.

“Some men were not very nice to me but I'm okay. Your daddy helped look after me.” Pete's ears pricked up, frowning at the first part. He turned slowly, watching the two of them together.

“He gives good hugs,” Bronx laughed, small fingers touching Patrick's arm lightly.

“Yeah, he does.” Patrick smiled back, hand lightly going to Bronx’s head. “It's nice to meet you, Bronx. It's been a long time coming.”

“You're funny!” Bronx rolled his head against Patrick's shoulder, smiling up at Pete when he walked over. He had no clue about anything, all that happened in the months after he was born. Pete so badly wanted to be three years old and with no clue to the shit going on around him.

“It's bath-time, kiddo,” Pete said, uneasiness settling into his chest. “Come Bronx. Say goodnight to Patrick.”

“Bye bye Patrick!” Bronx said, deciding not to have a meltdown over being forced into the bath. Pete had to deal with Bronx’s unending chatter about Patrick that bath and bedtime, even if his own heart was on other things. He got his kid in pj's and asleep in no time, the excitement of a new friend wearing him out. Patrick was sitting in Pete's living room when he went to find him later on. He was crossed legged, fingers tapping on his knee gently as he looked straight ahead.

“Got a beat in your head?” Pete asked, breaking Patrick's reverie. He hopped over the back of the couch, falling against his friend. “You won him over in record time.”

“I think it was the other way around.” Patrick smiled, his lips were starting to heal at the corners, but the more frequent smiles he'd given today probably weren't helping. “No beats, just noises.”

“Sometimes noise is better than nothing.” Pete stroked Patrick's hair. He didn't flinch away, not this time. It was such a neat little haircut he had now, unstyled since that night at the hospital, but different to the bad haircuts or no-cuts he'd had in the past. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” Patrick's sunken eyes were a little too intense, Pete had to look away. He wanted to bundle Patrick up like he would with Bronx when he was sick. It was a weird three seconds of emotion, where he was close to going through with it before backing away.

“Was it more than one man?” Patrick's face fell in record time, body going rigid against Pete. “It's just, you said to Bronx that it was _men_ that hurt you not _man._ I dunno, it just stuck with me.”

“What? Why would you ask that?” Patrick bit down down on his lower lip, splitting it open. He didn't seem to notice. “It's not--”

“It's okay,” Pete promised, even if it wasn't. It could never be _okay._ “Don't… I didn't want to upset you.”

Patrick was already coiled tight again though, like a sharp metal rod beneath Pete's fingertips. He covered his face with his hands, his breathing staggered once more.

“It was only two. It wasn't bad, it wasn't anything. It was okay. It was what I deserved.” Patrick fell apart in one quick moment. Pete ruined it by opening his big fucking mouth once more. He went to touch Patrick, but he flinched away. “I have to go take a shower.”

Pete watched Patrick skip out of the room, locking himself into the closest bathroom. Pete felt utter despair, tears spiking in his eyes, panic running riot between his lungs and heart. Maybe it was a bit like grieving. He knew that Patrick wouldn't ever be the same as he was before, the first few Google searches he'd done had told him as much.

He waited a few hours, staring blankly at his TV, at his phone, anywhere to keep him distracted. He checked in on Bronx, but he was sprawled across his bed, sheets half on the floor. He went to the kitchen again and dumped ice cream, milk and bananas into the blender, mixing it all up until it made a thick milkshake. He grabbed a glass and walked through the house until he reached his bedroom. He could see Patrick sprawled on his side, hair flat to his skull, eyes glassy.

“I thought this might help,” Pete said, putting the tall drink down on the nightstand. He climbed onto the bed beside Patrick. “I didn't mean to upset you earlier. My mouth always gets me into trouble.”

“Maybe if it had just been one I'd have been able to fight him off, but with two it was so hard. I've never cared about being small before, but I did then because I couldn't get away.” Patrick turned slightly, tugging on Pete's arm until it lay over him. Pete spooned him carefully, worried that any wrong movement would have Patrick flinching and crying again. “I don't want to talk about it, Pete. Stop trying to get me to talk about it.”

“Okay. We don't have to talk about it.” He didn't want to talk about it either; it gave his vivid imagination too much to go on. Instead, he breathed in the scent of his friend, trying to understand the best way to help. Patrick was okay one minute; a wreck the next. He was never too far from either at any one point.

“Thanks for the milkshake,” Patrick whispered softly. He was sweating through his clothes, but Pete just held him tighter. “Thanks for making such a sweet son. Today was better than the rest because of him.”

As up and down Patrick was with Pete, he made an effort to pull himself together whenever Bronx was in his vicinity. Pete started to feel comfortable leaving the room with Patrick and Bronx in the playroom together. It was kind of like they’d always known each other by the time it was Sunday and he was to take Bronx back to Ashlee again. Patrick had always been good with kids, Bronx was no exception.

“Patrick, you gonna be here next time?” Bronx asked on the drive back. Patrick turned in his seat, smiling at the three year old.

“Yeah. I hope so, if your daddy doesn’t mind,” Patrick answered softly.

“He doesn’t!” Bronx said, giggling at whatever face Patrick was pulling at him. Patrick stayed in the car again, but waved goodbye. Bronx was excited to see his mom again, but he was going to be full of stories about Patrick. Pete wondered how Ashlee would deal with that.

 

Everything seemed to come at them in hurdles. Once Pete had got over the fact that the meeting between Patrick and his kid had gone really well, it was suddenly Monday and Patrick was due back for his test results.

“Is it at Cedars-Sinai again?” Pete asked when they were eating breakfast before his appointment. Well, Pete was eating a bagel and Patrick was poking at the smoothie Pete had made him. Solids were better than liquids, but liquids were better than nothing. Pete was taking everything one step at a time, just so he could keep them both from falling apart.

“No, they want me to go to some clinic. It's in Santa Monica,” Patrick shrugged. He was still dressed in Pete’s baggy clothes, which was odd. It was probably not something he should ask about, in case it sets Patrick off into a crying jag.

“I like Santa Monica,” Pete said instead. “We better leave soon or we’ll never make it through the traffic.” They got ready to leave, Patrick pulling a trucker cap down over his head. He looked like a kid playing dress up, but Pete didn’t want to laugh at him. Without the long hair he had when he used to wear them, his little pointy ears stuck out.

It took them forever to find where they were going. Patrick seemed to be deliberately unhelpful, but eventually they turned up outside the clinic. Patrick was slow, so Pete took the initiative. It was discreet and clean inside. Patrick signed himself in as Pete took a seat.

“You’ll come in with me, right?” Patrick said softly, taking a seat beside Pete. There wasn’t anyone else in the waiting room just yet, thankfully. Patrick was completely unrecognizable to the days when he was properly in the public eye, but Pete was never sure about himself. He'd always been more famous than Patrick. His infamous look hung around like a bad smell sometimes, even out of costume with a haircut, no make up and loose pants, he could never be too sure.

“If that’s what you want?” Pete responded. He looked around for something to read, but it was all ancient gossip rags. Patrick nodded, but they weren’t left waiting long before they were called into a room. It was a woman doctor, maybe in her early forties. She smiled, shaking Pete’s hand, but not going for Patrick. He didn't offer his.

“My name’s Dr Lin, I’m sorry for what happened to you, Patrick. I’ve looked through the test results and so far your screenings have come back clear. I’m going to continue your course of antibiotics with a top-up vaccination, I think you were told this on the phone?” She was already gloved up, heading over to the cabinet and pulling down a small vial and opening a syringe packet.

Pete was a wuss when it came to needles, but Patrick just stared at her emotionless as she walked back toward them. “Yeah. I think my HIV test was clear?”

“Uh huh.” She asked Patrick to push his sleeve up, letting him know she was going to stick him with the needle. He flinched and looked away. “It can take six weeks for the bacteria to show, so we’re going to do another test scheduled for then, but false negatives are incredibly rare. Really, we’re just here to see what you want to do next. I know you had a rape kit done, but didn't file a police report. Have you thought anymore about that?”

“I’m not changing my mind on that,” Patrick said, staring down at his arm. Dr Lin had already disposed of the syringe and gloves, sitting on the chair opposite the two of them. “I know that makes me a bad person.”

“It doesn't make you a bad person,” Pete cut in, then looked up at the doctor, who was nodding her head in agreement.

“It’s good that you have a friend to support you through this. That’s what the next step is, getting you the support you need. Counseling can really help. I’ve got a few therapists I know who specialize in male rape victims. There’s a variety of treatments out there, self-help groups can really help you not feel alone too.” Pete knew she probably didn't mean to sound like a walking talking pamphlet, but it's exactly how she sounded.

“I’ve been in therapy since I was fourteen. It might not seem like it, but it does help,” Pete said, glad to see Patrick offer him a tight smile. Pete felt like therapy could help Patrick a billion times more than he could, he felt so out of his depth with this. “I think you definitely need to talk to someone about this. I know you’re dealing with, like, self-blame and you don’t wanna talk to me about it, an outsider might help.”

“Self-blame isn’t unusual with acquaintance or date rape,” Dr Lin pointed out. Even Pete flinched at that. _Acquaintance rape._ Patrick said he knew who did it. That meant there was someone in the world that had gotten to know Patrick and wanted to hurt him afterward. _Two people._ Fuck, Pete hadn't really processed that at all.

“How are you holding up?” Dr Lin's voice suddenly softened, and it was so much better than before.

“I cry a lot. I can’t always eat. I’m pretty clingy too. It makes me feel panicky if I have to go anywhere without Pete. It’s just weird because we weren’t really close, but now I've forced myself into his life...into his house.” Patrick rubbed at his face under his hat, his tell-tale sign of embarrassment. “I'm mad at myself because I don't get it, why one thing has turned my personality on my head.”

“I'm not resentful of that,” Pete interrupted. “Look, I really don't know the details of what happened that night and I'm not going to force you to tell me, but I do think it’s a good idea for you to speak to someone about this. Professional’s are probably gonna have coping techniques like, I dunno.” Pete turned to Dr Lin “It’s like every time he gets triggered - and even without it - he has to shower? We're on at least four a day at the moment.”

“Feelings of dirtiness are common, finding a calming routine and breathing exercises can help. How's the diet? Are you sleeping? I know I sound like a nag, but this is important information.”

“It was hard to eat at first because of the bruises on my throat, but that got better. I’m drinking a lot of milkshakes, it keeps the calories up if nothing else,” Patrick looked at Pete, not ever really turning to Dr Lin. “I have nightmares, but my sleeping is better when Pete’s around.”

“Uh huh,” she nodded, but she’d scooted back over to her computer and had started to type it all up. “Are you having mood swings or anything like that?”

“Not really, not like super angry to sad. Mostly I’m kind of numb? but then it hits me and I get really upset.” Patrick rubbed at the back of his neck. “Are we nearly done?”

“Yes, we are.” She had one of the calmest voices Pete had ever heard, like she'd done this thousands of times. “You're doing really well, Patrick. You have to remember this wasn’t your fault, none of what happened that night was your fault, and with help you’ll learn to understand this. I’m going to give you the name of a particular therapist who can help you, as well as some pamphlets on the type of therapy you can receive. You’re welcome to contact us here any time otherwise, but you have a good friend here. Be thankful for that.”

“I am,” Patrick nodded, patting Pete’s shoulder. “Thank you. Do I schedule another appointment to get my second HIV results?” He stood up from the chair, pressing himself arm to arm with Pete. She nodded her head, typing briefly on the computer before telling him that she’d now scheduled his call-back. She wished him good luck for now and shook Pete's hand again before seeing them out.

As well as Patrick had held it together in the clinic, he suddenly looked exhausted in the car. He pulled his hat off and looked at Pete, half in sadness, the other something else entirely. Pete wasn’t sure what it was.

“Well, that was horrible,” Patrick said, shutting his eyes briefly before opening them again.

“Just think of it as another day checked off the list.”

“The list of what?” Patrick asked. He'd taken his hat off to rub at his forehead and he had a pink line running all the way across the top of his head. Pete looked away, it made his chest sink the longer he looked at his friend.

“Dunno,” Pete admitted, as he put the car in drive. “Another day past the night it happened. Another day that you survived even if it sucked.” Patrick didn't respond as Pete drove them home. He took the silence as an agreement toward his comment. He didn't know what else to think.

They sat on Pete’s decking that night, looking down at the pretty lights of the city, drinking the whiskey he found in the back of his pantry. Pete had music playing quietly, blocking out the silence that was sucking in the dark night otherwise.

“What are you in therapy for?” Patrick asked. He’d been quiet the rest of the day, shut himself away in Pete's bedroom. Pete spent his time reading up on acquaintance rape, date rape and gang rape. It was all different, Pete’s head and heart hurt by the end of his browse. He'd locked himself in his office at one point and cried until tears leaked through the fingers covering his eyes.

“Nothing in particular. It just helps having someone to tell all my shit to. It gets it out of my head so I can fill it with other stuff.” Pete pressed his glass to his teeth, watching Patrick nod in understanding. “Have you ever been before?”

“A few times after the band broke up. It didn’t seem to really help so I stopped. I knew what I wanted back then though, or at least what I wanted to do,” Patrick frowned down at his empty glass. “I didn’t want to talk about it. I just wanted to move on.”

“Yeah, I know,” Pete was still smarting from it. It would always hurt, always suck that Patrick was the one that walked away. It was always meant to be them against the world, nothing was ever supposed to get between them.

“It was my first time.” Patrick broke Pete's reverie, pressing against his side gently. He'd placed his glass on the ground, feet tucked up under his body. Pete leaned against him too, so they were touching from knee to shoulder. “With a guy, obviously.”

“I didn’t even know you liked guys,” Pete admitted. He wasn't sure if he wanted to know the details. He wasn't ready for the moment Patrick would say what really happened that night instead of Pete having to fill the gaps in himself every waking moment.

“I only really liked one,” Patrick laughed sadly, hunching over slightly. “But he never liked me back so I pushed it down. It was okay, really, but I dunno. Recently I started to wonder what it would be like and I met this guy.”

“Patrick, you don’t have to tell me this.”

“I think I do. I think if I can’t tell you then I won't be able to tell anyone.” Patrick stared at Pete sideways, and then shut his eyes. “We’re gonna need some more whiskey first, though.” Pete liked the idea of that and went off in search of the bottle. He grabbed it and walked back outside again, feeling the warm stone of his backyard against his feet. Patrick was just staring off at the view, his back curved. Pete poured them both healthy amounts, knocking their glasses together and swallowing them back.

“Who was the guy?” Pete asked. If he ever found him in person, he would kill him. He’d take Andy with him, whose pacifist mindset would fall by the wayside considering the circumstances. They’d find that fucker and make him pay. _Both_ of them.

“I met him through some A&R guys on Island. He was in investment banking, maybe? I never really listened and he didn’t talk much about it. He was handsome, tall, _really_ tall. Like, maybe Gabe’s height?” Patrick shut his eyes and shook his head. “I don’t know why I compared the two of them.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Pete’s voice was already going. Instead, he hooked his hand around Patrick’s, letting him hold it. He didn't want to hear this, but if Patrick needed to tell him. “You were dating him?”

“We only went out a few times, he was kinda… maybe arrogant is the wrong word, but he knew what he liked. It was overwhelming for the most part, but the attention was nice. All I’d had recently was negativity and he complimented me, said I looked nice and stuff. We started to text and it got kinda heated I guess. He made it obvious what he wanted, but I just don’t think I was ready for it? Fuck, I really wasn’t ready for it.” He smacked his spare hand over his face, breath starting to chug and splutter. He was holding tight to Pete’s hand with his other.

Pete tried to control his own breathing as he said, “Just take your time, breathe through it, Patrick. You're okay.”

“We'd been texting and stuff and then I said he should come over so he did. I'd had a few drinks to calm my nerves, but then he was there and we were making out on my couch, but by that point I sort of sobered up and he was being really heavy handed and I started to panic. I didn't want it, I didn't want him to touch me anymore because I didn't like it, but then he started to call me names, which obviously, I get.”

“You don't deserve that, Patrick,” Pete cut in, but Patrick shook his head.

“Yeah but I'd been holding out for, like, three dates and then I invited him over, aware of what he wanted and then stopped at the last moment?” Patrick's fingers were shaking now, wrapped tight around Pete's. “I managed to get him off me, to get him out of my face and apartment. I felt sick, I felt like I narrowly missed something serious. Then an hour later I got a knock at the door and it was him. He was back but he had a friend this time.”

“Jesus Christ.” Pete shut his eyes, trying to block it out.

“They called me names but I didn't… I didn't understand. They started trashing my apartment, saying that I thought I was so much better… that I was-- that I needed to be taught a lesson.” Patrick was crying again and Pete was too, wiping at his face with the back of his palm. “He… the guy… the one I was seeing, he said that if I wasn't going to give him what he wanted then he'd take it for himself and he did, they both did… it seemed to go on forever.” Patrick stopped talking, there was no reason for him to describe it in detail. Pete could fill the gaps in if he really wanted and he'd seen the trashed apartment.

“I don't even know what to say, man,” Pete's voice came out shaky, but he didn't care. He just wanted his brain to shut out what he'd just heard.

“Don't you see how it was my fault? I kept acting like I wanted it before changing my mind?” Patrick stared at Pete and he looked like he desperately believed what he was saying.

“No matter how many times I tell you that it wasn’t your fault, I know you’re not going to believe me. Not yet, anyway.” Pete lifted his arm, putting it over Patrick. Both their cheeks were damp, eyes wet as they stared out to the city lights beneath them. “But you said no, and that’s what matters.”

“But I-”

“Nope,” Pete whispered. He rested his head on top of Patrick’s soft hair, heat radiating from his friend, even in sadness. “I don't know how we're going to get through this, but I fucking swear we will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! :)


	4. Chapter 4

Pete was left to mull their conversation over as Patrick headed inside. He needed another shower, but Pete couldn't blame him. He wanted one too, wanted to bleach his brain so that he'd never have the images of what happened to Patrick that night. He knew things like this happened to women all the time, but not to a guy. Not to his best friend.

He went inside, grabbing their glasses and leaving them on the counter in the kitchen. He checked his phone on his way up to the bedroom. Andy had text, saying he was flying in to see how Patrick was. He'd be there tomorrow evening. Pete would be glad for the company, for having someone else help out with Patrick. Andy was so much more level headed than Pete.

Patrick was still in the shower when Pete walked into the bathroom. Pete brushed his teeth in the en-suite, the shower still fogged up. When Pete focused his eyes onto the strip of clear glass at the bottom, he could see Patrick's was bundled up, sitting on the tiles.

Pete opened the glass doors, the water scalding his skin when it touched. He hissed as he shut the water off. He grabbed a towel from the rack and put it over Patrick’s shoulders, trying to get him to stand up or wake from the trance he was in.

“Patrick, this water’s way too hot.” He lifted him up under his arms. Patrick went with it, but he looked dead behind the eyes. It freaked Pete out more than the crying jag. He reverse-walked back into the bedroom, holding onto Patrick and eventually sitting him down on the bed. Patrick sat upright, water dropping from the ends of his hair down onto his shoulders. Pete dug through the bag of clothes he’d packed up for Patrick before realizing that Patrick probably wouldn’t want to wear his own clothes. That seemed to be a thing at the moment. He went to his closet instead, pulling out a loose shirt and some pajama pants. It was like dressing a doll; Patrick would lift body parts, but wouldn't do it himself. Pete got him dressed silently, and helped him into the bed. It had been a long day that had stretched into an even longer night.

Pete fell asleep at some point because he awoke with a shock, his ribs stinging. Patrick was writhing, hair wet and sticking down to his forehead. Pete panicked about the best way to wake him up without Patrick thinking it was him doing those things to him. There wasn't really any good way, so he went with a gentle shaking.

“Patrick...Patrick wake up, shh.” Pete touched the side of his friend's face lightly then up into his hair, calling his name over and over until Patrick's eyes fluttered open. There was a sharp moment of fear, when Patrick linked Pete to what was happening in the dream before he started looking around at his surroundings. “It's okay, you're safe. You had a bad dream, that's all.”

Patrick's eyes shut, his brow creasing up. “Jesus, Pete. I thought... Fuck.”

“I know.” Pete tucked his hand so it was beneath Patrick's head, trying to calm his friend down. “I think talking about it earlier fucked with you.” Patrick licked his dry lips, nodding his head.

“I thought it might be cathartic, but uh--” Patrick's voice was shaking, and he suddenly looked down in a panic, patting through the sheets before closing his eyes. “Didn't piss myself this time.”

“No, I probably woke you up in time. Do you wanna get up for a bit or stay here?”

“Stay here.” Patrick rolled over, until he was facing Pete, Pete's arm tucked under him. He shifted closer, until his face was pressed to Pete's chest. It wasn't a move he was expecting; Pete was another man. “You don't smell like him. He wore this cologne, I think I'll die if I ever smell it again.”

“You won't die, I won't let you,” Pete whispered, folding his arms over Patrick and letting him breathe him in. The amount of times on tour Patrick had bitched about Pete's lack of hygiene was resonating in his mind. So much had changed. ”You’ll be okay, no matter what.”

 

Pete woke in the morning to an empty bed. He touched the space beside him but it was cool to touch, like Patrick had been gone a while, but he couldn't hear the water running from his bathroom. He got up and walked through the house, slowly waking up.

Patrick was in the kitchen, frying something over the stove. Pete sat down at the bar, making himself known so as not to scare Patrick.

“Good morning,” Patrick said, turning around. There was an insipid looking omelet in the pan, not flavored with anything other than cheese. “Thought I'd make you breakfast. To say thanks and everything.”

“You don't need to do that.”

“I want to. You hardly sleep as it is and now I'm waking you up at all hours.” Patrick looked down, digging the wooden spatula beneath the eggs, pushing them out onto the plate. They flopped over in a sad spongy heap. “I know it's probably really fucking annoying having me attached to you 24/7.”

“Reminds me of the old days. We used to do everything together,” Pete said, grabbing the plate from Patrick, before frowning. “Aren't you having any?”

“I can't,” Patrick shook his head. “I know I should, but I'll just puke it back up.”

“Andy's coming later today. You up for that? “ Pete asked, watching Patrick's fingers tap on the kitchen counter. The food wasn't too bad, or at least, it was something to eat. He didn't push Patrick into eating if he didn't want. That was something Andy could work on, Pete would do everything else.

“He knows what happened?” Patrick asked softly, looking away when Pete nodded. “I feel like I let him down.”

Pete couldn't help the soft laugh that escaped. “Why do you keep saying that?”

“Because he's always been someone I looked up to and wanted to impress. Now he knows what I did, what I got myself involved in,” Patrick shrugged. “How could he not think bad of me?”

“Because it isn't your fault you trusted someone and they hurt you. Andy would never ever judge you for what happened, you know that,” Pete said, dropping his fork into his empty plate. “But you don't have to talk to him about it if you don't want.”

“After my reaction last night I don't think I want to talk about it again, not with anyone ever.” Patrick smiled so fake that Pete's heart broke there and then. “Remember when I used to be a functioning adult all by myself?”

“We don't have to discuss it right now, but therapy would help you in so many ways,” Pete said, trying hard to not start anything with Patrick. They hadn't argued at all since they'd reconnected and it was pretty new for them. Even when their friendship had been at it's strongest, they'd bitch each other out constantly. “I need to get groceries today. I haven't got any food in for over a week now.”

“I wanna come,” Patrick said, which was probably a lie, but Pete nodded his head.

“If it gets too much let me know, you can hang out in the car if not,” Pete said, standing up to dump his plate in the dishwasher.

“I just wanna get back to normal...” Patrick hesitated, “I don't really like this new me.”

“Just let me know when you're ready.” Pete knew Patrick would want another shower, to panic by himself for a while before he was ready. Andy was getting himself to Pete's house, but that wouldn't be until later that day, so Pete got dressed and hung out in the den for a half-hour or so before Patrick found him. He was in Pete's hoodie, a zip up this time, but his own jeans. It was weird seeing Patrick's legs in tight black pants. He'd lost a lot of weight since they were really close, but his legs had always been full; short and with a neat curve.

“Why are you staring?” Patrick said, and then looked down at himself, dropping to the couch beside Pete. “I'm not wearing any pants of yours that aren't sweats, and I’m not going out to the store in sweats, so it was these or nothing.”

“No, you look nice. You can stay here, Patrick. I've got security codes so no one will be a--”

“No, I want to come. I wanna get back to normal, away from what I was last night,” Patrick whispered. “This might help.”

It was only fifteen minutes in the car to the grocery store, but they didn't really talk. Patrick didn't seem up to it, like he was faking the entire time, forehead pressed against the glass of Pete's SUV. He parked them up in no time and Patrick was hovering by his side.

“So bananas and ice cream for you, something disgusting and vegan for Andy and whatever else I can think to buy.” Pete grabbed a cart, shifting it awkwardly with his hip when Patrick grabbed onto his wrist lightly.

“It just helps if I touch you,” Patrick explained beneath his breath. Pete nodded in response, letting their shoulders brush before he carried on. He ended up dumping whatever caught his eye into the cart, Patrick pressed close to him.

Patrick at least pulled apart from Pete to help back at the other end. It was a lot of crap Pete had bought, but there was inedible vegan shit for Andy and fruit and ice cream for Patrick.

“I didn't puke or freak out at all,” Patrick said when they were back in the car. “An improvement on our last trip.”

“Rock on,” Pete smirked, putting the car into drive and pulling off.

Patrick wanted some space as they made it back home. Pete didn't think it'd be a bad thing, though he wondered if the nerves were building now that Andy was coming to visit. Patrick's weird reaction to what Andy would think of him was clearly genuine. Pete was worried how Andy would take Patrick's uneasiness toward him; it'd hurt.

They'd only been back forty-five minutes before Andy walked into the house. He was so much beefier now than he had been during their last tour and while they'd always been in contact, it'd been awhile since he'd seen his friend in person.

“Hey man.” Pete held tight to him, suddenly glad for someone else to help out, if only for a little bit. “Good to see you.”

“You too. Where's Patrick? Is he okay?” Andy asked, letting Pete go before dumping his bag in the corner. “I can't believe what happened.”

“He's napping. We went out shopping today and I think he's probably a bit overwhelmed.” Pete hesitated, staring at Andy for a moment before relenting. “He's got it in his head that you're gonna be upset with him for what happened… he blames himself and is scared you'll think the same. I don't get why it's you in particular, but I just figured a warning's needed.”

“I could never think bad of him, Jesus,” Andy said truthfully. “It's not his fault. ”

“I know, but he's not right. He's really not the Patrick he was and I dunno how to fix him.”

“You haven't been close for a while though, Pete. He may have changed a while ago,” Andy said softly, but Pete shook his head.

“Not like this. He's clingy, he cries all the time, he spends most of the time in the shower. It might be good to have you here and helping out.” Pete rubbed the back of his neck. “Let's go outside and talk.”

They talked for a while. They steer clear of Patrick as a central topic, keeping to what Andy's been up to instead. They'd all followed each others projects silently, really. It made the pain more palpable. Eventually though, it all came back to Patrick. Pete just tried to explain as best he could.

“I think it was like date rape, I guess. It was this guy he'd been seeing which is a fucking shock, I didn't know Patrick liked guys, but yeah. They'd been dating, but Patrick didn't want to take it further. We don't …we don’t say the word. He can barely cope talking about it and I don’t wanna know any more.”

“Well, he has us.” Andy’s voice was even in softer than normal, but he looked pale and sad. “But he’s okay physically? He still not talking to the cops?”

“He’s not pressing charges. I’m trying to convince him that therapy is a good idea, but he doesn’t seem convinced.” Pete licked his lips, bumping elbows with Andy. “I have my own session tomorrow and I really need to go, I need to get this out to my shrink and I need you to stay here with him if that’s alright?”

“Sure. I want to, so long as he’s okay with it.”

“Yeah.” Pete grimaced. “Once he sees you’re not mad at him he’ll be okay, but honestly, he’s kind of attached to me. He doesn't want to be anywhere without me right now. It might be an issue, I'm not sure.

“He probably feels safe with you. It's good he can trust you,” Andy said. “It's a change though, right? Having to look after him instead?”

“Yeah.” Pete nodded, his laugh was a sour one. “It's different, but so am I. I know I put him through some tough shit back in the day, but this isn't something I'm doing to make it up to him or anything. I'm doing it because he's my friend and I don't turn away from his shit anymore.” Pete could taste the bitterness of his words on his own tongue and he felt bad for letting it out against Andy. He patted his arm gently to let him know the harshness wasn't for him. “I'm gonna go and check up on him, see if he's up to seeing you.”

Pete left Andy outside as he trawled through the house. Patrick was laying on the bed, eyes open but face soft. He didn't catch onto Pete right away, but when he did he smiled softly.

“Hey,” he patted the bed beside him and Pete crawled over, feeling the warm sheets from Patrick's body heat. Patrick curled up against him, cheek rubbing against his t-shirt. It felt odd to cuddle when Patrick wasn't actively upset, though not unwelcoming.

“Andy's here,” Pete said softly, stroking his fingers over Patrick's hair, gently brushing the tip of his ear. “You wanna go and see him?”

“I'm comfortable here,” Patrick said, hand sliding to Pete's ribs. He was snuggled right up, hot and gentle. “I'm safe here.”

“You're safe with Andy too, come on. We can snuggle later.” He kissed the top of Patrick's head, patting his shoulder lightly. Patrick wriggled off Pete, frowning down at him.

“How will I look him in the eye?”

“Same way you always have. Come on, it'll be fine.” Pete held his hand out, and Patrick took it, grasping tight. Patrick stumbled behind Pete the entire way down to the backyard. It was odd to see him like this, that a trauma had forced him into fearing old friends.

Patrick was hunched into himself by the time they walked out into the porch. Andy stood up and smiled at Patrick, who stared for a few moments before giving a quick one back. His fingernails dug tight to Pete, growing back from where they'd been clipped at the hospital.

“Hey Patrick, how are you doing?” Andy said softly, approaching them both. Patrick suddenly exhaled loudly at the tone in his voice, his fingers loosening from Pete.

“I'm okay,” Patrick responded softly. He didn't move away from Pete, despite the softening of his grip. “I mean, considering.”

“It looks like Pete's looking after you well,” Andy said, smiling so warmly at them both that Pete felt relaxed too.

Andy ended up cooking for them that night, some kind of stir fry that wasn't entirely inedible. Patrick didn't really eat his, sticking to a banana milkshake instead. Pete's a little nervous about it, how he consumes barely anything but thick drinks. Having Patrick in his life was a little like having another child to care for and freak out about. It hadn’t ever been like that in the past. Patrick had always been baby-faced and a little naive, but completely capable of looking after himself.

“Not hungry?” Andy asked, watching Patrick not even attempt to pick his fork up. The food was actually nice the more Pete ate of it. Or maybe it was just that chewing and swallowing took up time that he'd normally be fussing over Patrick with.

“Every time I try I feel nauseous. I can drink these.” Patrick lifted his yellow tinted drink. “I dunno why, I can't explain it, but it's the only thing I can keep down.”

“Trauma manifests itself in different ways,” Andy responded like it didn't even bother him. Pete looked between the both of them, at Andy eating his stir fry and Patrick drinking down his milkshake.

“Feels weird not having Joe here,” Pete pointed out. Patrick nodded his head, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “I feel like I should text him.”

“He should know because you two know, but I don't want anyone else knowing,” Patrick said, misinterpreting Pete's comment. “I don't want to be the one to tell him.”

“I just meant that we never used to hang out as a trio so it seems weird, I didn't mean we should tell him what happened.”

“But I mean, I think he should know. He's been good to me in the past.” Patrick frowned down at the glass. “What if he reacts badly?”

“If by react badly he wants to smash the face in of the two guys that did this, then yeah, I hope he reacts badly,” Pete said, dropping his fork into his bowl.

“Two guys?” Andy said softly. “Jesus, Patrick.”

“Yeah. Well it was my fucking fault. I should've just given him what he wanted instead of fucking--” Patrick stood up from his seat at the table and walked out of the room. Pete watched him leave before sinking his face into his hands.

“I handled that terribly,” he said. “I forgot you didn't know that part.”

_“Two guys_? Those son's of bitches.” Andy had his usual gentle voice, but it was dripping with low-level rage. “If he wants I can let Joe know, but you should go calm him down.”

“He's not got angry at me at all yet, I'm kinda glad he's just lashed out. It's more what I know.” Pete rubbed at his forehead. He was glad for a familiar reaction from Patrick, but also mad at himself for upsetting him so quickly. This wasn't like all the other times. “I should probably go see him, make sure he isn't trashing anything.”

Andy nodded his head, the only one to finish his bowl of food. Pete left him to go search for Patrick. This house was smaller than the large white box he'd been in before, and there weren't too many rooms to get lost in. Patrick was back in Pete's bedroom, his fingers curled tight in his hair, tugging on the short strands.

“I'm sorry I opened my gigantic mouth. It wasn't my place to tell Andy,” Pete said, sitting on the bed. He put a hand to Patrick's fingers, stroking back and forth, trying to get him to stop tugging so hard. “You can hit me if you want, but don't hurt yourself.”

“Why would I hit you?” Patrick mumbled, “I did that once ten years ago because you were being a dick.”

“I was being a dick just now.”

Patrick shook his head. “No you weren't. It's me. It's all my fucking fault.”

“It isn't. I mean,” Pete hesitated, wondering whether he should say it or not, but he'd already put his foot in his mouth already that night. He laid his hand gently to the back of Patrick's head, stroking his hair. “I know you think it's your fault because you 'led him on' but honestly Patrick, he probably planned to do it anyway. I think they probably planned it. It makes no sense for him to leave, phone his friend up on a whim and then go back and hurt you. I’m not-- not saying this to upset you, I just don't think it had anything to do with your behavior.”

“I don't...” Patrick touched the side of his face, not pushing Pete away. “Who does that?”

“Rapists.” The word felt horrible in his mouth. He wanted to spit it out, it didn't belong anywhere near Patrick. Sweet Patrick, who didn't deserve anything close to what happened. “Yeah, I know we weren't using the word. Sorry again.”

“You think he planned it when he met me? Saw a stupid sad idiot, naïve enough to think he liked me and figured he'd give it ago. Maybe it was when I told him I hadn't been with a man before and he wanted to be the first. It wasn't supposed to be like that. Why did this happened to me?” Patrick's fingers tightened in his hair again and Pete winced, hand hovering over his friend.

“I don't know.” Pete touched Patrick's shoulder, wanting to hold him but not wanting to touch where he wasn't wanted.

“I'm--” Patrick started to cry again, big wet tears falling down his face. “I'm so tired of all of this, of being made to feel like this.“ Pete wrapped his hands right around Patrick, letting his friend fall into him once more. There hadn't been a whole lot of anger on Patrick's part, but this side of the grief felt so much more cathartic in Pete's mind.

 

Andy was up before them both the next day. Pete left Patrick sleeping, curled up with his face pressed into Pete's pillow. Pete watched for a time, but then headed out, finding his other friend looking down on the world from Pete's backyard.

“Sorry we never got to hang properly last night,” Pete said, taking a seat beside him. He hadn't wanted to leave Patrick, who went quiet after his outburst but held so tight to Pete's wrist that it was still stiff when he woke up.

“It's okay. Is he sleeping in your bedroom?” Andy asked. There may have been something different in his tone, but Pete ignored it. For all the jokes and stage antics over the years, there'd never been anything _like that_ between them.

“Yeah. He has nightmares. I think he feels safer with me.” It wasn't his issue to talk about, but Andy had a right to know. “Are you sure you're okay to watch him today? I'll only be a few hours.”

“Yeah, it's fine. I want to spend time with him, it might do you good to have some time apart.” Pete felt so shitty talking about Patrick as if he was the same age as Bronx, but he didn't know what to do half the time. They hadn't been separated properly since that night at the hospital.

“I like having him around. Like, I'd prefer it to be under different circumstances, but I missed him. I forgot how much.”

“I’m glad you're able to reconnect.” Andy's hand landed on Pete’s arm, squeezing gently for the moment.

It wasn't long later that Patrick was in the kitchen with damp hair, frowning down at the coffee machine. Pete and Andy had already had a cup, but Pete left Andy outside as he went to see Patrick.

“How we doing today? “ Pete asked, leaning over to help his friend out with the machine. Patrick scratched the side of his head, shrugging his shoulders.

“Okay, I guess. I should apologize to Andy for walking out on him last night…” Patrick sounded non-committal and spacey; every day felt like a learning curve so Pete didn't question it.

“You haven't got anything to apologize for but, you can spend time with Andy today. I've got to head out for a bit.” Pete saw the way Patrick frowned and he held his hands up in defense of himself. “I've got therapy, just for an hour or so.”

“No,” Patrick shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. “I can come with you… I can sit in the waiting room, right? Don't… don't wanna be on my own.”

“You won't be on your own… you'll be with Andy.” Pete started, not really sure whether there was a tantrum approaching. It seemed that way with how red Patrick was turning. Patrick only used to have tantrums when they were recording, but they were kind of funny back then. Pete didn't feel like laughing now.

“But he's not you. It needs to be you!” Patrick clawed at his face again, his typical sign when he was distressed. Pete was starting to pick these things up and he didn't like it. He didn't want to be able to pick up cues like that.

“Patrick, chill out, man. You're going to be fine, it will be an hour and a half tops. Ninety minutes. You can do that, alright?” Pete touched Patrick's shoulders gently, feeling the bones of his shoulders beneath his fingers. He wouldn't get used to that, either.

“I just get scared,” Patrick said, eyes shutting. “And I have a headache. And this is so embarrassing, my reaction to everything. I'm waiting for the old me to take the place of this pathetic stand in, but he hasn't come yet.”

“You haven't been eating enough. It won't help,” Pete tried, sliding his hands down Patrick's arms. He suddenly felt so drained, the mood swings were way more exhausting than those 48 hours after Patrick's phone call. “Some breakfast might help.”

“Maybe some fruit. Something light,” Patrick shrugged, he tucked his head briefly to Pete's neck, his breath tickling slightly. Pete rubbed between his shoulder blades stepping away. “I'm sorry for being this way.”

“I'll fix you something to eat. Take your coffee and sit outside with Andy.” Patrick clearly didn't want to, wanted to hang off Pete some more, but Pete gave him a pointed look and sent him away.

Pete chopped fruit into small pieces because that's what the Internet said to do with someone that refused to eat. Pete didn't think Patrick was as severe as the websites he was on described, but he wanted to stop whatever was happening to Patrick before it developed into anything else. Andy was probably right; it was just the trauma manifesting itself, but it was still all so fucking unnerving.

He headed outside to where the other two were sitting. Patrick had left a gap between him and Andy, hunched over slightly. Pete sat between them both, handing Patrick the bowl of fruit.

“I was just saying to Patrick that I can go and pick his car up later when you get back,” Andy said softly, which was a good idea. Pete didn't want Patrick ever going back to that place, but he'd need his own car at some point. Things couldn’t remain as they were right now.

“I don't know where my keys are,” Patrick responded, voice thick as he swallowed a slice of mango.

“I think they're with your bag of stuff from the hospital,” Pete said. There wasn't much conversation after that. Patrick was taking his time eating, but Pete was glad to see him trying it without pushing it away. When Pete started to get ready to leave, Patrick's eyes were on him; serious and blue. He still didn't look happy, he almost looked nervous.

“So you'll be back in a few hours?” Patrick asked when Pete was on his way out. Patrick had followed him into the foyer. “What if I get panicky?”

“Try and calm your breathing, go take a nap. Something that will relax you until I get back.” This was one of the reasons Pete needed to get Patrick into therapy; he didn't know how to fix him properly. There was only so much googling he could do before he got lost. “Don't shut Andy out, man. He's here because he cares about you, remember?”

“I know. It's just hard.” Patrick hunched over again, rubbing at his forehead like he was frustrated with himself again. “I guess you'll have a lot to talk about this time. A lot has changed in two weeks.”

Pete didn't know how to answer that because it was true. His last session had been about his relationship with Ashlee and how it had turned around. His poor therapist was in for a real offload session, he hadn't had a real heavy one in forever. He didn’t know how he’d even open his mouth and spill out everything that had happened.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the feedback on the last chapter :)

Driving through the city to his appointment gave Pete time to decompress; time alone until he was able to blurt out his feelings to his therapist. He kept thinking about how Patrick would behave at home without him. It wasn't right to think that way, but Patrick was so different right now. He didn't seem to function without Pete by his side.

His therapist worked from her home, which meant there wasn’t a clinical waiting room for him to pace around in. She welcomed him into her office as she always did, the room decorated well enough not to feel like a clinician's office, but separate from the rest of her house to not seem overly casual. There was a row of old medical books on the top shelf that he liked to focus on when he was feeling particularly strained. He focused on them the moment he sat down, staring above Joanna’s head as she took her seat opposite him.

“You seem troubled today, Pete. Is there something you want to discuss in particular or shall we continue from last time?” she asked. He liked her because she kept things professional. She didn’t try to suck up or make him open up about things he wasn’t ready to. Mostly, he used to her to force out the thoughts bouncing around his head so he was less inclined to bottle it all up as he’d done so often in the past.

“Yeah,” Pete said. “Patrick’s back in my life under the worst circumstances and I don’t know what to do.”

“How do you mean?” She asked gently. They’d spoken at length about Patrick, how Pete felt about the hiatus and his reaction to getting cut off from his best friend after a bumpy few years. He hadn’t spoken to her about him for a few months now, focusing on his relationship with Ashlee instead, but she knew everything. She knew all of the worst things that Pete had thought about Patrick that he wouldn't dream of thinking now.

“I got a phone call about two days after our last session from the hospital saying that Patrick asked for me and that he’d been hurt. He’d been...uh...it’s hard to say because it’s _Patrick._ Two men had raped him in his own fucking apartment for hours.” Pete felt sick saying it because all he could see was his dear friend and the wreck of an apartment that had been left in the wake of the attack.

“Is he okay?” Joanna asked, sounding concerned herself. It probably was the last thing she expected him to say.

“No. He’s on the mend physically, but he’s hardly eating. He cries and showers all the time. He blames himself and he gets panicky if I leave him alone for any length of time.” Pete rubbed at his face, trying not to let it upset him. He had to be the strong one for once. “Andy knows. He’s staying with Patrick at home, but Patrick’s not comfortable with anyone that isn’t me.”

“I think it would be wise for him to see someone,” she said, and he nodded his head in full agreement. That much had been obvious for the last week.

“I know, I’m trying to convince him,” Pete sighed. “I didn’t even know he liked guys.” Pete caught the confused look on Joanna’s face and continued. “The men that raped him...or one of them, Patrick had been seeing him. Patrick met this guy and they’d been dating but he hadn’t been with a man before so he wanted to wait and it pissed the dude off, but that’s not true. People don’t do that. He probably planned it with his friend all along, saying he had a virgin that trusted him.”

“It must be hard to see your friend like that, Pete. Especially after everything that happened.”

“He blames himself, that’s the worse part. He thinks because he was “frigid” or whatever, that he teased the man into wanting to do this and that’s not true. Patrick is the sweetest kid in the world, the kindest guy I’ve ever known. He wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

“He hurt you,” she pointed out, but he shook his head away from that. She didn't need to be pointing shit like that out anymore.

“Only because I’d been dragging him down for years. None of that stuff seems to matter now, the fact that we hadn’t spoken in years is pointless because now I’m the only person he feels safe around.” Pete held back the tears, but he felt adrenaline pumping in defense of his friend.

Joanna continued with her point though. “Have you thought about why that is?”

“Not really,” Pete shrugged. “Perhaps because I’m older and I think he used to look up to me? I used to look after him when he was a teenager and we were on the road. I mean, I couldn’t look after myself back then, but I always made sure he was okay. Then when he got older he was always dragging me up from the gutter so I guess I thought he'd forgotten about how we were right at the beginning. I think I'd forgotten it really.”

“It would be wise to talk about your broken friendship at some point with him. You know from past experience that ignoring things can only make it worse.” Her words were true and he nodded his head, but he didn't really want to rake up the past.

The rest of the session went quickly. Talking about Patrick and a few coping techniques in case Patrick got upset again. She told him to get him into some form of therapy and he knew he should, but he couldn't force Patrick if he really didn't want it. He came away from the session the same way he always did; with adrenaline to burn. Sometimes he'd hit the gym after a session to work it off. It was like therapy for the body that way; working alongside the mental purging he put himself through. As he checked his phone on his way back to the car, Pete was surprised to come away from the session to no texts from Patrick. He did have one from Brendon.

_Hey, I'm in the usual spot, wanna meet up?_

Pete hesitated. He hadn't seen Brendon in a while. Their thing was as intermittent and irregular as it got, but it worked fine for them. They were just friends that let steam off together occasionally. The text couldn't have come at a better time considering Pete’s tightly wound body.

_C u in 20_

Pete knew he was cutting it fine, that Patrick was expecting him back home. Yet he had so much energy to let off that it probably wouldn't be a good thing to bring that back to his house. Pete arrived at Brendon's hotel room, the same one that they always went to. Brendon looked a little rough, dark circles and greasy hair. Pete moved back when Brendon pulled him in for a kiss.

“That's not how this works, remember?” Pete said, shifting through his thoughts and remembering their roles; the games they played. It was fun to go to that place and forget about everything else going on in his life.

“You're right.” A dirty smirk appeared on Brendon's face as he sunk down onto his knees. “This is how it goes, right? This is how you like it?”

“No talking,” Pete demanded, voice lowering. He stared at Brendon's dark face, losing all thoughts of everything else occupying his mind. It was a short relief, but he needed it. He hadn't realized how bad he needed to let go of his mind and just sink into something else for a while.

He left Brendon's hotel room not long after they'd come down. Brendon was in the shower cleaning himself up when Pete left, but he wouldn't mind. This was just something they did, something they played around with. It suited them both, it got them off and then it was done with. No one was pining for anyone else and it was as much as they needed.

By the time he was back home, loose boned and free of the buzzing anxiety that had been pummeling his chest, he was maybe an hour and a half past his promised returned. He pushed open his front door, half expecting Patrick to round the corner in hysterics. There was silence though and he followed the quiet until he rounded the corner to the den and found Patrick and Andy watching some shitty Sci-Fi together.

“Sorry I'm late,” Pete said, testing the waters. Andy just nodded, but Patrick gave him a cold look. Pete hadn't had one of those in such a long time now. Part of him was glad for the old familiarity, but dread wasn't too far around the corner. Patrick was so unpredictable these days.

“Brendon texted, he wanted to meet up and I didn't want to say no,” Pete said, taking a seat next to Patrick. He tried to keep his voice casual, but Patrick was as tight as anything beside him, not turning to face Pete at all.

“We phoned Joe earlier to let him know what was happening,” Andy responded softly. “He's desperate to come out, I think he's flying in tomorrow.”

“So it really will be a reunion, huh,” Pete said, hating the sensation of a fully angry Patrick beside him. “Did you guys have fun?”

“Great fun,” Patrick muttered, shifting away when Pete went to touch his hand. “I'm taking a shower.” Patrick walked off in a strop, disappearing out of sight before Pete could even call out to him.

“I really pissed him off, huh?” Pete said, turning back to Andy, who stared at him in consideration. “Was he okay?”

“It took him a while to warm up to me, but yeah. He got upset telling Joe obviously, but I think he wants to see him. You know how close those two are.” That much was true. They'd been the babies of the group, had gotten in and out of trouble plenty of times and had remained close despite their differences. “He started to get worried when you didn't come home.”

“I know but I needed some time out and Brendon supplied it.” Pete didn't go into the details. No one knew of their dynamic, they didn't need to. It wasn't love, it wasn't even lust, but it was an outlet that they both desired. Pete trusted him whether he ought to or not.

“I'm just saying you maybe should've told him that.” Andy raised his arms up, showing he didn't mean anything by it. Pete conceded the point. “Did your therapy go alright?”

“It was fine. Good to talk things over with her, but we really need to get Patrick in with someone. The doctor at the clinic gave us a name and I got some off my shrink today, hopefully he'll agree to something.” Pete rubbed a hand over his face, sighing heavily. “Alright, I'm gonna go see how he is. You'll probably hear us shouting if it goes well.”

“Like old times,” Andy laughed, as Pete left the room.

Pete headed to his en-suite as Patrick had pretty much taken it over. The water was still running when he headed into his bedroom so he sat in the middle of his bed, waiting for Patrick to come out. Patrick still looked angry when he headed into the bedroom, hair flopped down over his forehead. He looked so young. Grumpy, but young.

“I'm sorry I didn't stick to the time we agreed,” Pete started, but Patrick just shrugged.

“You were busy with Brendon. I get that.” Patrick sat down beside Pete on the bed, eyes down on his knees. “Friends with benefits, right?”

“I didn't know you knew,” Pete confessed, but Patrick just shrugged.

“He used to talk about it when I went on tour with him.” Patrick picked his lips like he wanted to say something more. “As if being your bitch is something to be proud of.”

“He's not my bitch,” Pete laughed at the absurdity, but Patrick just shrugged.

“That's how you play though, right? You dominate him; do anything _you_ want and not what he says.”

“He wants me to,” Pete said softly. This wasn't a conversation he really wanted to have with Patrick, not now, not ever. Especially not now.

“I'm not fucking stupid. I know you're not a goddamn rapist. I just don't like thinking about it,” Patrick said and then flinched, rubbing at his face. “Don't. I don't want to think about it.” He stood up and walked out of the room and Pete was left baffled once more. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he frowned down, pulling it out and staring at the screen.

_Been too long since we done that hotdamn ur good_

Pete shook his head, feeling like a huge asshole and not knowing whether there was a reason to or not. Was he an asshole for having consensual sex with an old friend, or was Patrick overreacting because of the trauma he'd been through recently? Pete didn't have a fucking clue.

Pete spent a few hours by himself, making use of his own shower for once and then face timing with his kid for a while. He even started to shift through a ton of emails that he'd been ignoring since Patrick showed up. Eventually he figured he'd given Patrick enough time to cool off and worked his way through his house until he found the two of them outside again. Patrick gave Pete a small smile before looking away sheepishly.

“Are we all on talking terms now?” Pete said in good humor, seeing the smile Patrick gave. Andy winked at them both before saying he was going to go pick Patrick's car up. He'd already found the keys and knew Patrick's address already. Pete could tell he was trying to give them some space so he just nodded his head, seeing him off.

“I'm sorry about the mood swings,” Patrick said the moment Andy left them alone. He wouldn't look at Pete, but he did rest his head briefly on his shoulder. “I guess that's something else to deal with.”

“I think therapy really could help you out with that kinda shit,” Pete tried, seeing the dark look Patrick gave him from beneath his eyebrows. “It will help, if nothing they'll give you some coping strategies.”

“But I don't want to have to tell them what happened,” Patrick said. “Telling you was hard enough. I never wanted anyone else to know, I don't have the strength to talk about it.”

“You won't have to sit there and discuss what happened at length...at least not at first. Just tell them that you need some coping techniques or a way to deal with flashbacks or nightmares, you know? Because I can comfort you and support you, but I can't come at it from a professional point and I don't want to make things worse, you know?” Pete wrapped an arm over Patrick's shoulder, pulling him close. They'd always had a physical closeness, something that brought comfort to them both. Everyone said it was weird; _gay,_ but Pete never cared much and Patrick even less.

“When did you get so smart?” Patrick laughed, but he didn't sound so against the idea now. “Would you come with me?”

“I don't know if you'd really want me there. You might get super personal and not want me involved,” Pete said, but Patrick shrugged.

“I don't want to talk to a stranger about personal things, they might be... I dunno. I just don't trust anyone anymore.” They were running in circles, but Pete was desperate to get Patrick some kind of help.

“If I find someone, will you at least go to one session? I’ll sit in there for the first one, but I think you’ll really thank me for this one day.” Pete moved his eyes around until Patrick finally agreed on some form of contact.

“One session with you next to me,” Patrick said slowly with a small nod. “You’ll be fucking glad when I’m all fixed up, you’ll get your life back.”

Pete shook his head. “No, I don’t think it’s a case of ‘fixing you’ and either way, I like having you in my life again. I don’t want that to change.”

“But you’ll still want your bed back at some point, so you can have Brendon over again.” If it was anyone else, Pete would think there was jealousy there, but with Patrick it was something past that.

“What I do with Brendon never happens in my house or bed, his either for that matter. You can sleep in it as long as you like, I won’t be bringing anyone back into it.” Pete ran his knuckles gently over Patrick’s soft cheek. He always had softest skin across the slopes of his cheeks that everyone would tease him for, but it felt good beneath Pete’s hardened fingers.

Patrick managed to eat a small amount of pizza when Andy came back that night, a surprise really, but he was still quiet and Pete could tell he was nervous about Joe arriving the day after. It would be like Andy all over again. Andy had parked Patrick’s car in the garage though, tucking it out of the way. Pete couldn’t see Patrick using it any time soon.

Andy wanted to Face-Time his friends back home afterward so they headed off to bed. Pete fiddled around with the TV in his room as Patrick showered, but soon they were watching a chat show, piled together in the middle of the bed. Patrick was curled up against Pete, hand resting on his chest. It would almost seem romantic if it wasn’t the two of them. Patrick had always been a cuddler deep down, burrowing himself into the arms of the closest body and that night didn’t seem different from any other time.

 

Patrick had another nightmare that night and Pete wasn't able to wake him in time. Pete ignored the damp sheets sticking to them and focused on waking Patrick instead. He did manage to rouse him eventually, but there were tears rolling thickly down Patrick’s face by the time his eyes flickered open.

Patrick was white as a sheet and shaking, but Pete managed to get him up and into the shower. He left him there and focused on pulling off the damp sheets and sticking them in the washer dryer. The light was on in the guest bedroom, but Pete didn't want to disturb Andy with this. It was probably humiliating enough for Patrick with just Pete aware.

Pete changed the sheets and then went to check up on Patrick. He was sitting in clean clothes, in the corner of the bathroom, with ghostly pale skin. Pete waved a hand in front of his face, watching Patrick blink in recognition, holding out his hand for Pete to take. He helped him up and into the bedroom.

“I think maybe I should see someone,” Patrick admitted softly. “There was a point when they… when it was happening that I... _you know_ and now it keeps happening every time I sleep.”

“That makes sense as fucked up as it is.” Pete stroked a hand through Patrick's hair, seeing the pure exhaustion on his face. “I'm sorry I couldn't wake you in time.”

Patrick smiled, though he looked strained. “It's hardly your fault. Can we look at some help?”

“Now?” Pete asked, wondering whether it was a good time. Patrick wouldn't want to be sleeping anytime soon though and Pete had been pushing for this.

“Maybe we can email the shrinks or something, I dunno,” Patrick shrugged, biting on the side of his thumb. “I can't deal with this humiliation any longer.”

Pete nodded his head, rolling over to pull his laptop up from bedside the bed. Patrick sat beside him on the bed, touching Pete's wrist with his still shaking hand.

It was a pretty hard task to find what they wanted. There was way too many approaches to therapy and neither of them were sure what Patrick would need. They'd both forgotten the name of the person Dr Lin had given them, but as Patrick didn't want a male shrink. It narrowed it down somewhat.

“I'm sorry I've turned out this way,” Patrick said.“I've lost all sense of who I was. I can't even remember what I was like in the months before it happened, but I know I was different to the guy I was that you knew.”

“I guess it's good you're going to talk to someone then. They could help you figure things out again,” Pete said, scrolling down the list and finding a woman that seemed to fit what Patrick wants. She wasn't too far away either. Pete sent her an email and made a note of her number before closing the laptop. “Do you wanna try getting some sleep or are you done?”

“Could we just lay down together?” Patrick asked, wiping at his face. He looked so exhausted, like the past few weeks had really gotten to him. Pete nodded his head, crawling back up the bed. Patrick cuddled up against his chest, closer than Pete figured he'd want, but he didn't say anything and simply wrapped his arms around his friend, holding him close in the dark bedroom.

Pete drifted in and out of sleep, though when he awoke for the last time he wasn't feeling all that well rested. Patrick was asleep though, face creased up as he breathed softly. Pete watched him, wondering how safe he was in his dreams this time.

Pete finally got up to take a shower, scrubbing away his tiredness beneath the spray. He had a lot of thoughts in his head about Patrick. Part of him wondered whether what he did with Brendon had triggered Patrick. It sounded silly, but if Patrick knew how he played with Brendon and if that was playing in his mind, he could see how it would upset him considering everything he'd been through. Patrick was still asleep when Pete walked into the bedroom again, so he dressed as quietly as he could and sneaked out of the room without Patrick waking up.

Andy was already up and sitting with his laptop at Pete's breakfast bar. He smiled to Pete, but he was typing away quickly. Pete just fiddled making himself something to eat, splitting a bagel and popping it in the toaster.

“Patrick's found himself a therapist, we're just waiting for a call back from her,” Pete said, catching the way Andy's eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Yeah, he had another bad nightmare and decided he needed some help. I fucking hate seeing him that desolate, but if it means he's willing to get help then it can't be a bad thing.”

“No, of course not. Is he still sleeping?” Andy asked and Pete nodded. “I said I'd pick Joe up from the airport this afternoon, I just wanted to give him a heads up beforehand.”

“He knows Joe's coming today, but he'll probably still be jumpy about it, but baby steps. That's what I tell myself.”

“I'm not a baby.” Pete jumped at the sound of Patrick's voice and he looked up to see him standing in the doorway. Pete grimaced, holding his hands out in apology.

“I know you're not, that's not what I meant. Do you want some breakfast?” Pete asked, trying to divert the argument. Patrick had never been a morning person. He stood in the doorway and then shook his head, shuffling in.

“I don't, but I should,” he said, taking a seat next to Andy. “What time is Joe getting here?”

“I'm picking him up after one. You nervous about seeing him?” Andy asked as Pete started to eat his bagel while searching out some fruit for Patrick.

“A little. It makes me feel vulnerable having people know,” Patrick confessed, hands skittering over the breakfast bar. “I don't want anyone else knowing.”

“No one else will ever have to know,” Pete insisted for the hundredth time. He wondered if Patrick would ever believe he could trust them all again, whether all men would forever be tainted in Patrick’s eyes, even his own brothers.

“He came to see me a few times when I was on tour,” Patrick said softly, as Pete passed him a bowl of chopped fruit. It was more than what Pete had ever done. “We would hang out after my shows. He stuck out like a sore thumb, but I didn’t mind. I liked seeing him outside of the band.” Pete listened to Patrick talk and tried not to get jealous about their relationship. They’d always been close, closer in ways that Pete wasn’t with Patrick. It had been a different kind of friendship, more equal than theirs maybe.

“It’ll be good for us all to catch up,” Andy said softly and finally closed the lid on his computer. “What are you guys gonna do today?”

“I’m thinking we could go out for a walk or something?” Pete said, hoping Patrick was down for that. It would be great for them to get out, to try and integrate Patrick back into the real world.

“Okay, I think I could deal with that. I'm tired of all this falling apart,” Patrick said, taking a cautious bite from an apple slice. “We've got a call waiting from that shrink, too.”

Patrick seemed pretty excited about getting out for a few hours. It was mostly bravado that Pete could see through, but it was a change. Pete waited around for Patrick to get showered and changed as Andy left to go to the airport. Pete drove them out of the city and toward one of the quieter beaches he knew of. Patrick had always been more of a beach bunny than a hiker and there wouldn't be a ton of people to freak him out.

“Maybe we could get something to eat?” Patrick said in the car as Pete attempted to park. “I feel like I could do that today and not freak out.”

Pete nodded his head to Patrick, wondering whether he would actually eat anything or not. It was pretty hot out as they walked down to the beach, the sand warm under their bare feet once they'd removed their sneakers. Patrick still kept closer than usual to Pete, but it felt good to be out together and he seemed the most relaxed he'd been on any outing so far. It wasn't close to being good, but it was almost okay.

“I feel more edgy now than I did with Andy finding out. I was scared about him knowing, but with Joe it's different. I know he'll support me, but I guess I'm scared of how he'll show it,” Patrick explained to Pete. “I dunno, I feel like he'll be pissed because I'm not going to the cops.”

“He won't be pissed at you, but maybe just frustrated because those dudes won't get punished, you know?” Pete answered, trying to hide his smile when Patrick stumbled in the sand a little. “He and I have always clashed over you, so he's probably just gonna get pissy because he doesn't think I'm looking after you in the right way.”

“Looking after me?” Patrick's smile went tight, though he couldn't deny it. “He doesn't know that I pissed in your bed last night. You're doing a lot for me and I'm not doing anything for you.”

“You did shit for years for me. But you're not a burden either, no matter what you think.” Pete didn't want pity to seep out of his words, didn't want Patrick to think this was about returning a favor. “We're best buds, remember?”

“Nothing says best friends like letting me piss your bed,” Patrick said with a slow laugh. He knocked their shoulders together as they continued walking down the beach together. Eventually they came across a small strip of restaurants that didn't look too busy. With sandy feet shoved into sneakers, Pete grabbed them a booth at the back, away from the busiest part of the place. Patrick had paled by the time they sat down.

“Just have an appetizer if you like,” Pete said, watching Patrick scan the menu nervously. “I can order out tonight when Joe's here.”

“I feel like I'm going to puke,” Patrick said softly, his fingers tapping on the sides of the menu. “My heart's beating real fast.”

“It's just anxiety. Take deep breaths.” Pete watched his friend, sucking in large breaths himself to try and help him out. Patrick's eyes stayed on him, mimicking Pete. “Don't think about it. It's okay. You're alright. We can get a sharer and you can just watch me eat.”

“I thought I was going to be okay, goddammit,” Patrick admitted between shaky breaths. He shut his eyes, leaning over to take Pete's hand, squeezing it tight. “Jesus, fuck. This has fucking messed me up.”

“You're safe. You're okay.” Pete held tight, just helping Patrick breathe through it. He calmed down after a while, taking sips of the water from the pitcher. By the time the waitress came over, he looked upset with himself, staring out of the window as Pete ordered a sharer of nachos.

“Do you feel any better?” Pete asked, when she left them alone. Patrick turned to look at him and nodded his head, though he was still very white. “This is an improvement on before. Remember how jumpy you got when we stayed in my cabin.”

“Yeah, that was bad,” Patrick admitted with a laugh. He still held tight to Pete’s hand as he smiled at Pete like he was trying to show he wasn't about to freak out again. “I'm pretty nervous for Joe now. About how he's going to react.”

“I'll talk with him, but he's just going to support you know matter what, okay?” Pete insisted, sitting back when their nachos arrived. “Now shut up and let me eat,” he winked at Patrick, finally sliding their fingers apart. He managed to eat a few nachos himself, but mostly Pete demolished the lot. Looking after Patrick made him pretty ravenous a lot of the time.

Pete could tell it was a different kind of fear this time with Patrick. He seemed more worried about how Joe would react to the situation rather than misplaced judgment. Pete tried to rest a gentle hand on Patrick's thigh on the drive home, but Patrick jolted and moved his leg out of reach.

“Sorry,” Pete said, remembering what he read online about no sudden movements to touch. Patrick was always so handsy with him since the incident that he forgot that he couldn't reach out in the same way.

“I'm so fucking jittery. I feel like I have so much pent up adrenaline,” Patrick's voice was pretty shaky as he moved over to pat Pete’s shoulder awkwardly. “Now I'm panicking about having another panic attack.”

“You'll be fine. We all love you, remember that? We should give Joe enough credit to react in a decent way,” Pete said, trying to believe it himself. Joe wasn't rash, and he wasn't all that hot headed, but he was fiercely protective of Patrick and he had a more black and white view of the world, maybe. It wouldn't be a huge surprise for him to deal with things a little different. Pete probably would have reacted a million times different if he hadn't been so close to the situation. “When you're hooked up to a shrink we'll be able to get on top of the anxiety as well. I'm an expert in that, I got a whole lot of experience.”

“I remember,” Patrick laughed. “I've had it in the past, but not like this.”

“It's sucky I know.” Pete pulled up onto familiar roads, driving high up into the suburbs until he was back on his own turf, stopping in his own driveway. Andy's car was parked out front, meaning he was back already. Pete turned to Patrick, who looked clammy with nerves. “Let's go do this.”

Joe had a loud voice. He always had done and it carried from whatever room he was in, right through to the foyer Patrick and Pete were standing in. Patrick's eyes had closed the moment they shut the door and Pete could see that he was taking in deep breaths all the way up to his shoulders; his mouth pinched. Pete wrapped a quick arm over Patrick's waist, bringing him in. Patrick fell against him for a few seconds before pulling away.

Pete followed Patrick through his house and into the den, where Andy and Joe were sitting together. Pete hadn't seen Joe in a good six months and he looked noticeably older, a little broader maybe too. They'd all changed right under Pete's nose. Joe was staring right at Patrick, blue eyes serious and sympathetic. Patrick had frozen solid, shoulders by his ears until Joe just smiled at him, all warm and sweet. Patrick immediately relaxed and walked into the room, looking back at Pete until he took a seat beside him on the couch.

“So this is fucking wild,” Joe said, sarcastic as ever. Patrick's hands were squeezing tight at his own thighs, even though he was breathing fairly normally. Pete rested an arm over the back of the couch, and Patrick leaned into him slightly, Joe's eyes were on them both. “Four of us back together.”

“It's pretty weird,” Andy said softly from the other side of Patrick. “Pete's place is a pretty good half-way house.”

“Room for all you motherfuckers in my house and heart,” Pete said, watching everyone laugh and Patrick relax, taking the elephant out of the room. “How was the flight?”

“Fine. I wasn't gonna delay it for anything,” Joe said, unwilling to play nice and let them pretend there was any other reason they'd met up. “Patrick...man. I don't know what to say.”

“Neither do I,” Patrick admitted, turning to Pete suddenly. “Pete's been putting up with a lot of my shit.”

“It's not an issue.” Pete waved a hand, grimacing when all eyes turned to him. They were all his brothers and they all had their reasons to judge him. Patrick hadn't ever, really, but it wasn't his look that Pete was having a hard time with. Joe's look was something else, and Pete knew he'd caught onto the way Patrick was leaning into him.

“Something made me want Pete that night. At the hospital, when the nurse kept telling I should have someone with me all I could think of was having Pete beside me. Anything that happened in the past few years fell away for me and I think it's the same for him, so please keep things civil. It doesn't matter anymore, he's helping and I trust him over everyone else in this room,” Patrick said softly, though his words were stronger than anything else he'd said recently. He wrapped his fingers around Pete's wrist, a show of support that had Joe staring blankly at Pete.

“You have all of our support,” Andy said from the other side, “but I guess you're probably tired of us telling you that.”

“Pretty much, yeah.” Patrick ran his free hand through his hair, the other one still wrapped tight to Pete's wrist. His nervous habit was starting to bruise Pete's skin, but he wouldn't ever say anything.

Joe surprisingly didn't bring up anything about the men that hurt Patrick and he could only presume it was because Andy had already told him what Patrick had decided to do. The conversation was still a little stagnant, because they were all so aware of the reason they'd been brought back together in the first place. Andy was the first person to leave the room after a while, probably unable to deal with the pauses in conversation, and wanting to check back in with his other friends.

Pete's phone started ringing after a while, and when he looked down he saw Ashlee's name in bold. He extracted himself from Patrick, who was leaning half over him, to deal with his ex-wife.

“Ashlee, what's up?” Pete said, finding his way to his recently abandoned office. He sat in his chair and spun around, staring at their old musical achievements, or the ones he'd bothered to frame. His office was a little like a shrine to his past, sometimes he could go months without stepping into the room he hated it so much.

“I just wanted to check up on things. Is Patrick still there?” she said sweetly, but there was probably something else behind her question. Pete didn't bother to question her with a short response. He needed to stay on everyone's good side these days.

“It's turned into a bit of a band reunion, all the guys are here,” Pete said, hearing her surprise in the confused 'um' she uttered.

“Are you guys getting back together then...that's pretty quick,” She laughed, but Pete grimaced. He'd love to one day, but looking at the wreck of Patrick, who couldn't even sit in a restaurant without freaking out, he just couldn't see it happening.

“Nothing like that at all. It's just a catch up, but it's gonna be hectic here for a week or so. Maybe I could take Bronx to the zoo or something instead of having him stay over, I don't want to overwhelm him,” Pete suggested. Bronx had probably some awareness of who Patrick was through overheard conversations, but three mostly strange dudes hanging around might scare his kid too much.

“Good idea. You may wanna think about taking Patrick with you though, Bronx loves him. Not that I'm complaining!” Ashlee laughed, as if she was curtailing the conversation before Pete could raise a comment against her. Had he been like that in the past? He couldn't remember. “I'm glad for you both. You guys need each other. Despite what I've said in the past.”

“We've all said shit we didn't mean, Ash,” Pete said softly, wondering when it became such an easy thing to talk to his ex-wife this way. It used to be constant bitterness and screaming.

“I know, but. I mean, Patrick's okay, right? Is he sick or something. Only Bronx mentioned that Patrick was sad a lot and that's not like the Patrick I remember.”

“I can't give you specifics, Ashlee, but I'm helping him through some pretty serious shit. Having Bronx here did seem to cheer him up so when the other two leave it'll be good to have the two of them bond some more.”

“I'll need more than that someday,” she said, but Pete wouldn't ever tell her more than she needed to know. They would never be cool enough for him to open up to her about shit like that. Truthfully, they never had been. Patrick had always known more than his own wife had. They hung up after that and Pete sat in his office, looking around at the pictures of them on the wall; the four of them were scattered and damaged in this house of his and he didn't know if any of them were fixable after what had happened.

Pete did have a call back from the therapist they chose. She gave them a slot in two days time. Pete was happy for it, maybe it would finally give Patrick a chance to find some coping techniques. Pete knew he wouldn't ever be okay… At least not in the ways he was. When he wandered back into the den again, Patrick was sitting beside Joe, legs tucked beneath his body as Joe spoke to him quietly. He wasn't crying, but he had a concerned look on his face.

“No, I understand that, but I'm not changing my mind,” Patrick said softly, looking up as Pete came into the room. He didn't say anything about the therapist in case Patrick got funny about it. Pete took a seat opposite them, smiling at them both, even if they could see through the fakeness.

“I'm taking Bronx to the zoo this week. He's pretty desperate for you to come, Patrick,” Pete said, catching the way Patrick smiled at him. It would be something pretty big, to get Patrick to get through a day of strangers and strange surroundings. He couldn't force Patrick into doing it, and he wouldn’t want to.

“I haven't been to the zoo in years. Since we went that time with the band,” Patrick confessed. Pete had been three times already this year. It was one of the perks of having an animal mad three year old. “That was a lifetime ago, right?”

“We're all pretty different from those days.” Joe's voice caught on his words, as his fingers stroked the arms of the chair. Every time he stared at Pete it was with an unsettling serious look on his usually open face. It made Pete feel guilty about something, though he didn’t know what.

Patrick begged off after a few minutes, saying he needed a nap, but Pete knew he just needed to panic on his own for a bit. They each had their own ways of coping, and Pete figured he was embarrassed about this all playing out in front of everyone. Pete watched him leave, wishing he could find an excuse to disappear before Joe started talking.

“What the hell are you doing, man?” Joe said, before Pete could make his getaway. He turned to look his friend flatly in the face, catching the furious look.

“I’m helping him through this traumatic experience,” Pete said. “He asked for me and I’m the only one that can actually help right now.”

“What by sleeping with him?” Joe spat back and Pete had to lock his hands to his knees to stop himself launching at Trohman. They’d always been the most physical with each other, the two that seemed to annoy each other the most. Truthfully, most of their friction was about Patrick. He belonged to Pete in all the weird and worst ways, but there was a part of Pete that knew he didn't understand Patrick in the ways Joe did.

“I’m not sleeping with him, I’m sharing a bed with him because he wants that. I don’t know what kind of sick depraved ass you think I am, but I wouldn’t ever do anything like that to him.“ Pete tried to keep his head, telling himself it was Joe’s fucking protective side coming out and not anything truly malicious.

“Why isn’t he going to the cops with this, then? Why are you letting them motherfuckers get away with this?”

“Because he doesn’t want to go to the cops. He doesn’t want to describe in detail the shit that they did to him over and over he doesn’t want to stand up in court and have a lawyer twist his words and have his already fucked up belief that it what his fault play on his mind any further. That’s without the fact that he’s a public figure, if it got out into the press it would be even worse for him.” Pete felt the air leave his body when he finally managed to stare Joe down, trying to control his anger. He wouldn't be told how to look after Patrick when he'd done a pretty good job so far. “Think with your goddamn brain, Trohman.”

“No, I know,” Joe said, deflating suddenly. “It's not fair though, that they can go around raping people and get away with it. He's left the shell of the person he was while they seek out their next victims.”

“That's something I think we all have to come to terms with, though. All we can do is support him right now in any way he wants,” Pete said calmly. He was upset that Joe was taking it out on him, but he just tried to be the bigger man.

“I just don't think sleeping in the same bed as him is in his best interest. Being around men like that after he was attacked.” Joe wasn't looking at Pete, but down at his hands instead. Pete took deep breaths as he tried to control himself.

“Fuck you with that.” Pete stared Joe down, trying to fight his anger. He didn't even know how to respond so he stood and walked through his house until he fell into his abandoned living room with a laptop. He was hurt by Joe's comment; he was the only one that had helped Patrick out at this time. He was the only one really offering any type of emotional support to their friend. He was doing better than most would in this type of situation.

He ended up fiddling around with some lyrics, soaking himself into it all. Writing was what he knew best and he purged it all out of his head and onto the screen in front of him. It was unedited and it was a mess, but he saved the file and shut his eyes, some of the tension leaving for the time being.

The door opened after a few minutes and Patrick sunk down into the seat beside him, resting his head on Pete's shoulder. The soft fanning of his bangs stuck to Pete's jaw, but it was a nice feeling. Pete wrapped an arm over his shoulder, cuddling him close.

“I think I've fucked everyone's life up,” Patrick said softly, with a small laugh on the end. Pete wanted to hush the comment away, but he couldn't bring himself to do it.

“This had nothing to do with your actions, but what happened has just brought us together again. We have to think of it that way.”

“Even though it hurts? I can stop hurting, the bruises have faded now, but not on the inside.” Patrick’s breathe hit Pete’s neck in warm bursts, but he wasn’t crying. He was just being honest.

“Have you thought about writing at all? I’ve been doing a bit today and it’s cleared my head. It’s always been good therapy for me,” Pete suggested and then tried to backtrack. “Obviously it won’t fix what’s happened, but it could help. You haven’t mentioned music at all since you’ve been here.”

“I had this melody in my head when it was happening. At times I tried to focus on that instead of what was happening to me, but I’m not sure I can put it out there yet. I don’t want to hear it outside my head, you know?” Patrick said softly. He was still resting warm and soft against Pete and it was a good feeling, to be depended on like this.

“I can see why you wouldn’t want to deal with that right now, but I have a fuckton of words you can drown in if you want. You always were my best editor.” He smiled down at Patrick, who was looking up at him from under his messy blond hair. “You always brought out my terrible side, but I guess that’s what I wanted?”

“You were never as bad as I think you believe. There wasn't a moment where I ever really disliked you,” Patrick said, sitting up and staring dead-on at Pete. His comment made Pete's skin feel tight and his chest ache. He didn't like it much.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is less angsty than usual, hope you enjoy :)

Joe had his eyes out for them the rest of the day. Despite coming across as fairly laid back to most people who knew him socially, he had a sullen side that he wasn't afraid of showing if the mood suited. Pete knew it didn't help that Patrick was sitting beside him most of the day, as close as he could without it being considered cuddling, but Pete wasn't going to stop him. He liked the company and considering what had happened to Patrick, he didn't really want him distancing himself in any way.

“So if you know who did it,” Joe started to say, when they'd all been sitting quite happily eating pasta in Pete's kitchen. Patrick had even eaten a fair amount of his, but his fingers froze up at the start of Joe's comment.

“Just stop talking already, man. We don't wanna hear it.” Pete's fork scraped the bottom of his bowl, his eyes sliding to Andy, who'd shut his own in exasperation. This suddenly felt like a really bad idea.

“No I'm not trying to start anything,” Joe said, eyes on Patrick, who Pete could see was trying to stop his hands from shaking too much. Right then, Pete wanted to throw Joe into the back of his car, drive him to his cabin, and leave him there with no one to hear his stupid comments.

“What are you saying?” Patrick mumbled, pushing his bowl away from himself. Pete sighed, frustrated enough that he couldn't eat the rest of his food either.

“I'm just thinking if you knew who did it, are you safe from them? what if they come back? I know you don't want to go to the cops, but like, they might help in this case.” Joe sounded so earnest that Pete wanted to cry. 

“Why would they come back, they got what they wanted from me. It wasn't like they wanted me for anything else,” Patrick said, before his forehead creased up and his whole body stiff as a statue.

“But I thought he was your boyfriend?” Joe carried on, to the point that even Andy groaned from beside him. If Pete had longer legs he'd have kicked Joe hard under the table. As it was, he was trying to restrain himself from socking his fist into the side of Joe's nose.

“No...I mean. It was casual, we were dating. I don't know. It's not...” Patrick was running his hands through his hair nervously, his breathing kicking in a little faster. “I know I'm to blame because I led him on.”

“That's not true, Joe's just being a dick,” Pete insisted, but Patrick's eyes had lost any light and his body had closed up. 

“I’m not being a dick, I’m being realistic!” Joe’s voice got louder and Patrick flinched from beside Pete, his hands closing over his face. “Look, I don’t want that guy coming back and touching him again, I don’t want him even fucking looking at Patrick. I feel like I'm the only one that's not ignoring this.”

“No one wants them to come back. We're not ignoring anything, just dealing with the bigger shit right now,” Andy said softly, his calm tone cutting through the atmosphere. Patrick had turned almost translucent, his fingers pushing into his temple. Pete went to touch his shoulder, but Patrick curled away from him as if he’d been burned. It was all Joe’s fault as far as Pete could see. Patrick walked out of the room, and Pete, he just stared at Joe wishing he’d never fucking decided to come over.

 

Patrick was very very quiet the next morning. He wouldn't eat and he was barely talking, just sat looking silently as he waited for his appointment with the therapist to come around. Joe and Andy had stayed out of the way and Pete was glad for it. Pete had spent three hours after Joe had fucked things up, trying to stop Patrick from convincing himself that the men were going to come back and hurt him again, that it was always going to be his fault, that he asked for what happened to him. Before then, Pete felt like he'd made some progress with Patrick's thought processes, but Joe had kicked all of that thinking to the curb.

“You're coming in with me, right?” Patrick said, biting his lip as they sat in the waiting room. They were the only ones there and Pete was glad for that. Patrick may not be all that recognizable, but fame and familiarity hadn't ever really left Pete. The last thing they needed was to be sharing a waiting room with a loose tongue.

“For this time yeah. I think it might help, but I still think you should try and do it yourself afterward. I think that will be best in the long run,” Pete said and Patrick nodded at him, even if he didn't look all that happy about it.

Patrick's therapist was a woman named Lori. She looked kinda hippie-ish, with long black hair that caught under her elbows as she moved her hands around. At first she seemed to think Pete was Patrick, but once they figured that all out, clarifying why they were there, she was smiling at Patrick, looking him directly in the eye as she asked him how long it had been since the attack.

“Three weeks, I think,” Patrick said, looking to Pete for assertion. Pete nodded. “Once the bruises and stuff faded I thought I might have gotten better but I just feel even worse.”

“Rape has a lasting impact on a person, Patrick. With time you’ll be able to heal, along with the right strategies. It all really depends on how you wish me to help you.”

“I don’t know what that means,” Patrick said softly. He sounded like a lost kid.

“I think, uh, she means that it’s up to you to decide on the type of treatment you want?” Pete said, looking to Lori for help. She nodded her head, but then gave him a questioning look.

“It’s good to see that he has support, though I’d suggest that future sessions are solely one on one.”

“No, I want Pete here,” Patrick said. “He’s my friend and i don’t feel safe with anyone else.”

“That’s why I was thinking maybe we could work it so I attend like once a month, but the rest are single sessions. I think Patrick probably has a lot he needs to say that he might not want me present for. I think as his best friend physically I’m the best person to look after him, but I don’t know how to help mentally.” Pete was blathering, but Lori was nodding her head sympathetically. She seemed a lot more _earthy_ than Joanna, but Patrick had a slight hippie-dippy side, so maybe they'd work well.

“I think that’s a good idea, Pete. Now this is a lot to take in and there's a lot of different approaches to take, so I'd suggest taking a look at some of my pamphlets to see what would suit you. I have a sheet I want you to fill in so I can make my own suggestions, but really it's up to Patrick in how he'd like to progress.” Lori suddenly pulled together her assertiveness, standing up and going over to her desk before coming back with a sheet of paper on a clipboard. She handed it over to Patrick along with a pen and he stared hesitantly down at it before he started to really look.

Pete sat there awkwardly as Patrick filled in the questionnaire. It was slow work, but Pete felt Patrick's nerves evaporate slightly. When he finished the sheet and handed it back to Lori she scanned it for a moment, nodding her head seriously.

“Okay Patrick. It looks like you've scored pretty high with anxiety and avoidance issues at the moment. That is something I'd like to see us tackle. Cognitive Behavioral Therapy or Stress Inoculation Therapy are both treatments that can help with these areas. There's also a group therapy session I run every Thursday evening for clients that are victims of sexual assault. It's a safe environment to discuss with people that have gone through the same experiences as you.”

“I don't think I'd like that,” Patrick admitted, “I don't want to talk about it. I want to get over it.”

“Both CBT and SIT deal with the issues that have stemmed from the assault, but as avoidance is an issue it's something we will have to look into and I'd like our first session to be you talking me through what happened in your own words and thoughts,” Lori pressed on. Pete turned to Patrick, who was staring down at his knees.

“Whenever I talk about it the nightmares get worse,” Patrick said, he was rubbing his head and pulling a face that was akin to Bronx trying broccoli for the first time.

“That's an unfortunate issue, but with my help we should be able to get you dealing with the issues that stem from the attack. Patrick, you will never be the person you were prior to your assault, but I can provide you with ways in which to deal with the way your life's been affected.” It broke Pete's heart knowing Patrick would be stuck with the consequences forever, even if he knew deep down that it was inevitable. Patrick nodded his head at her, maybe a little downbeat, but he wasn't crying or panicking in any way.

They left not long after, scheduled for the same appointment in a week's time. Pete would sit outside, wouldn't be a part of it, but it would be for the best; he'd already heard as much of Patrick's assault as he'd ever want to know. 

Pete checked his phone as they made it back to the car. He had a missed call from Andy apologizing for Joe's behavior the night before and saying they were going to leave. Pete was relieved. They were there just long enough for Patrick to know they care, but this close to the incident, it just wasn't working out. 

“Looks like it's just gonna be us now. Joe and Andy have decided to go home,” Pete said to Patrick, who was staring at the pamphlets in his lap. The relief on his face was palpable as he shut his eyes and smiled.

“That's probably for the best. I love those guys, but last night sucked so hard and I didn't want the same thing to happen again.” Patrick buckled up, but then lent over to pat Pete's hand. “You've been such a good friend to me through all of this. I love Joe so much, but can you imagine if I'd phoned him that night?”

“I think there'd be even more hysterics if you'd gone to him that night. M'glad you called me though, it means way more than you could know,” Pete shrugged his way through the conversation, but he was coming over all warm as he pulled out of the parking lot.

They got a little bit tipsy that night, something they hadn't done in a long while. Pete wondered if Patrick's assault had put him off the booze, but he didn't say anything as they stretched out in his den, looking at all the pamphlets and advice.

“Going to group therapy for this must suck,” Patrick said softly, glasses on the tip of his nose as he stared down at a booklet. Pete really wanted to shove them back up, but he thought better of it. “That kind of stuff is for self inflicted bullshit like drugs and alcohol.”

“I don't think you're supposed to look at it that way,” Pete laughed. “That CBT stuff looks pretty good, right? I've heard about it before, so it must be a standard thing.”

“Yeah, it looks pretty good. Plus that sheet she had me fill in had a bunch of stuff that she could help me with. It had like whether I had trouble eating or whether I got panicky around strangers. I feel positive for the first time in forever, Pete. Like I might actually get better or something.”

“You will do. You won't be the same, but maybe you'll be an improved version.” Pete wrinkled his nose up, hearing the bullshit, but Patrick just laughed, finally shoving his glasses up his nose.

“I think I need way too much improvement, but I dunno. It's scary, but I feel hopeful about today. Haven’t felt hopeful in a real long while, so it’s strange.” Patrick shook his head, like he was trying to muddle the thoughts resting in there.

They spent the rest of the night going through Pete’s tacky sci-fi collection. It was fun even if it shouldn’t be. Sometimes it felt like they were grieving, like there was this dark cloud of a lost person hanging over them. For the most part, they were smiling and leaning against each other as the clock moved forward into the early hours. The best part was when they did fall into bed later that night, Patrick didn't wake once with a nightmare.

In the end taking Bronx to the zoo did end up with Patrick dosed up on some pretty strong sedatives. It wasn’t the best version of Patrick they’d get, but it beat him having a panic attack and scaring Bronx, who was so into Patrick that it was pretty hilarious.

“Do you like penguins, Patrick?” Bronx asked, holding tight to Patrick’s hand. Pete was the other side of his kid, with an eye on Patrick, who was more or less stoned and not totally with it. 

“I think so...yeah. I mean, I like giraffes more. And dogs,” Patrick said, shuffling them into the penguin section. The birds were flopping around, waddling and eating, much to the joy of the crowd, though Bronx was staring more at Patrick.

“I like dogs. I think daddy should let us get a dog,” Bronx told Patrick, who laughed softly in response, wrinkling his nose up at Pete.

“Can we get a dog, daddy?” Patrick deadpanned. Pete felt a weird twist of _something_ in the way Patrick said it. He shook his head, unsure of how to respond. Instead he listened to Patrick and Bronx talk together, or perhaps Bronx chatter to Patrick, who slurred something softly in return. They had lunch on a picnic bench as Bronx played in the sandpit nearby and Patrick was leaning heavily against Pete's side, his breathing slow and soft.

“I could give you some uppers, but I don't wanna set you down that path,” Pete laughed, his jaw catching Patrick's baseball cap. “Bronx loves having you around though, it's hilarious.”

“I know, I like him too,” Patrick said softly. “Hey can we go to the petting zoo next? Wanna pet some animals. Some cute fluffy animals.”

“You're a cute fluffy animal,” Pete said, then questioned why, but Patrick appeared to not have heard him and was fiddling with the top of his water bottle. He seemed to have great trouble loosening the lid until Pete snatched it from his hands and opened it with ease, handing it over and smiling back when Patrick gave him a dopey beam.

Patrick and Bronx had a great time in the petting zoo and even Pete got up close and personal with a goat, petting the animal on the head as the other two cooed over the bunnies. They spent way too long in the shop looking for toys, but Patrick bought Bronx a stuffed monkey that made a weird noise if you shook it. Bronx loved it, but Pete guessed it was more to do with Patrick buying it for him than anything else.

Patrick passed out almost immediately when they got back home, but Pete had to carry Bronx in from the car anyway, his kid asleep the moment they drove away from the park. It was a pretty good day; too much sugar and too much excitement for a three year old, but Patrick survived as stoned as he was, and Pete held it all together.

It was a lonely few hours for Pete, who used it as a chance to slog through his emails. He had a few guest DJ spots coming up and a chance to present a new tattoo show if he wanted. He was pretty tempted, and he agreed to a meeting about it. The DJ gigs were easy money and he couldn’t say no, even if he wasn’t sure what that would mean about Patrick. He’d just have to deal with it when he approached. 

When he checked in on Bronx, he was passed out, arms above his head, and brand new monkey resting next to him on the pillow. Pete rearranged the blanket over him before closing the door to his bedroom and heading toward his own. Patrick was awake, but groggy. His eyes were red and his face was pinched up, but he attempted a smile at Pete as he rubbed his face. Pete crawled onto the bed beside him, settling beside his friend's warm comforting body.

“Today was a good day,” Pete said, nudging Patrick's side. “You did good, kid.”

“You got me stoned and sleepy,” Patrick laughed. His head sunk down onto Pete's shoulder, nestling into the crook. Pete wrapped an arm over him, trying to remember a time when it felt like this. It felt different and he didn't know why. “Felt like a family or something today. I always wanted that, to have a life like that.”

“You'd make a good parent and Bronx loves you. Like, he's met you three times recently and he's crazy about you.” Pete knew by this point that loving Patrick must just run in the family. When they were younger, when Patrick was a kid that was way too young to be hanging out with Pete, Pete's mom and dad had loved him too; treated him like a good influence on their wayward son.

“I just think you're really lucky to have a kid like him, you know? I'm pretty jealous,” Patrick slurred and then moaned, wiping at his face sleepily. “I'm so groggy I could sleep for days.”

“I'll share him with you,” Pete said to the first part, stroking his hand through Patrick's soft hair. “That's just the meds. You're not used to them, but go to sleep. You'll feel better for it.”

It felt like Patrick's recovery really picked up over the next few days. He ate a little more and time spent with Bronx meant he was distracted. They drew with chalk on Pete's backyard and discussed what kind of dog Pete should buy for them. He was holding off; he couldn't deal with a puppy, a three year old _and_ Patrick. Patrick's slurred discussion of family when he'd been drowsy after the zoo rang true. They did feel like a family, not like when he was with Ashlee; something different to that, but there was something there.

“You sang in daddy's band,” Bronx said to Patrick over tacos on his last night before he went back to his mom's. Patrick nodded his head, fiddling with the food on his plate. He was eating slightly more now; more than just fruit, but he was generally pretty slow about it.

“I did. It was pretty fun,” Patrick smiled at Bronx, who had sauce smeared over his face and was refusing to use his cutlery. 

“But why did you stop?”

“I uh... It just stopped being fun.” Patrick turned to Pete for help, but he just shrugged. He had half a taco in his mouth and zero answers.

“You should sing again, I like it,” Bronx told Patrick, who nodded his head seriously.

“Yeah, maybe one day.” Patrick was smiling, almost whimsically, or what could be considered whimsically if Pete thought Patrick was in anyway happy.

 

It quickly wound around to Patrick's therapy session, but instead of fearing it, he seemed to be buzzing for it. They'd had a good couple of quiet days after they took Bronx back to Ashlee's. Patrick had had a few nightmares across the nights, but Pete woke him each time.

“I'm so ready for things to change Pete, that's all,” Patrick said in the car to his session. His legs were bouncing with nerves and he was wearing one of Pete's hoodies, but there was a twist of a smile on his face. 

Pete spent the hour of Patrick's session responding to his emails. He had a gig next Friday back in Chicago. He'd take Bronx with him, to see his parents and Patrick could go and see his too. When Patrick came out he looked exhausted and drained of the energy he'd been exuding all morning, but he wanted to walk around the block some before heading home. Pete obliged, letting Patrick talk slowly. 

“I don't know… it's just hard. I had to tell her about it all again and it made my skin crawl. She said I wouldn't have to go into such much detail next time, that we can focus on techniques to fight the fear and stuff but I don't know…" Patrick was shaking his head and grimacing, bumping his shoulder against Pete's. “This whole week felt like progress, but talking about it again makes me feel sick.”

“I think you'll find it draining at first, but you get used to it and it gets better. I mean, not _better_ better, but like. You'll find it easier to process.” If Pete had any experience in anything it was therapy. “I just think of it as purging.”

“I don't wanna be a victim anymore. I know it was naive, but I thought maybe today would be a turning point,” Patrick admitted, as they turned and made their way back to the car.

“Not naive, but it's not an overnight process. Today was the last time you'll ever have to say what happened to you if you want. You're on the way back up the hill, alright?” Pete rubbed between Patrick's shoulder-blades, glad that Patrick didn't shy or flinch away.

“The worst part is after the bullshit of what happened with my album I was looking to just start my life over. Do something new. Something needed to change, but I didn't mean like this.” Patrick touched the side of the car with his fingers, it seemed something profound to Pete, who knew nothing of what Patrick was going through, yet desperately wanted to help. “The positives are that I reconnected with you and you haven't made me pay any rent yet.”

Pete laughed, not expecting the last part. “You're paying my water bill, remember? Now get in the car.”

Patrick seemed pretty on board with the idea of going back to Illinois for a few days. Pete had half presumed that he'd want to stay in Glenview with his mom, but Patrick wanted to stay with Pete and Bronx. Because of the nightmares, he guessed. His family didn't know what had happened and no one else really knew what to do with him, if Joe and Andy were anything to go by.

“I have to keep a food diary for the week,” Patrick said the next night. Truthfully he'd been weepy and down when he got back from the shrink's office. It was just his emotions getting the better of him, but he'd actually woken up the next day in a really good mood. “A food diary and then, like, an account of the nightmares and stuff. It's productive.” Patrick seemed happy enough, well not happy, but it was keeping him occupied. “Should I be exact?”

“Exact in what?” Pete was trying to arrange a meeting with his agent about the TV show. All via email because he hated phone calls, and Patrick kept rambling on at him, half talking to himself, half expecting Pete to answer.

“Well, if we order Chinese take out, do I say I ate all the Singapore noodles that were on my plate or just the quarter that I could stomach?”

“Just the quarter, idiot,” Pete said, catching the way Patrick frowned in objection. He removed his hands from the keyboard and stared at his friend. “If you just say the food it sounds like you're eating pretty well when in reality a few twists of noodles is pretty representative of what you're actually eating, thus giving her a full approximation of the shit you're going through.”

“That does make sense. You're so smart, Petey,” Patrick mocked. Pete shook his head, laughing even as he went back to his email. They sat in quiet for a few minutes, Patrick scrawling illegible in his new food diary, Pete attempting to figure out his response. After a while, he decided to get Patrick's thoughts on the job opportunity.

“You think I'd make a good TV host?”

“No,” Patrick laughed. “Why?”

“I've been offered the second series of some tattoo show. Like as the presenter or something.”

“Why'd they ask you?” Patrick said, which would've been rude if it was anyone else. As it happens, Patrick's just never been all that good at extending his politeness to Pete and any harshness to his words was generally just downright honesty.

“Dunno, but it might be fun,” Pete shrugged, submitting his email and closing the lid. It was only then that he realized that Patrick was leaning fully against him, smiling sweetly at him. His cheeks almost had full apples to them, something Pete hadn't seen in a good while.

“Sounds like it could be fun for you, you always liked that shit. I hated doing TV.” Pete had had his MTV show back in the day, but he'd hardly been sober for it, he couldn't really remember anything but a blur. He'd enjoyed it, he supposed, if Patrick's work was anything to go by.

“You're an introvert, that's why.” Pete leaned against his friend. “It's so good having you back like this. Having a Patrick and not just his shell around.”

“A sad crying shell?”

“A sad crying shell of a Stump,” Pete embellished. “I know that today is a good day and tomorrow might be a bad one where you think nothing will work out, but at least you know I'll always have your back.” Pete was blushing, he could feel his cheeks burning, because he'd never really offered his friendship like this in the past. It had been there, unspoken, and Patrick had always been the solid rock trying to fill whatever void Pete was trying to ignore.


	7. Chapter 7

They'd traveled all over the world for years, but Pete could sense that Patrick was nervous as they boarded their flight back to O'Hare. He'd been sticking to his food plans like crazy, making sure to not only write every small speck of food down, but announce to Pete whenever he was doing it. It became a tic, an almost annoyance to see Patrick hunched over the little notebook, smearing his terrible handwriting over the page.

They'd be staying at Pete’s parents house in Wilmette, which meant only a drive away to where Patrick used to live; where his mom still resided. Patrick was worried about it all; flying, being in a new city, being in a house he wasn't used to with people that would want to know how he and Pete ended up being so close again.

“So wait, what are we doing here?” Patrick said on the flight. He was on some mild sedatives prescribed by Lori and not any of the heavy duty stuff Pete was on. He was pale, but he was doing okay. Bronx was being quiet the other side of Pete, playing on his DS as Pete touched Patrick's hand.

“I have a DJ spot, so we're staying with my parents remember?” Pete watched as Patrick nodded, suddenly figuring it out.

“I'm a little scared of their reaction now. Isn't that dumb?” Patrick laughed, rubbing at his forehead tiredly. “I think I'm scared that they'll see through me and know what I really am.”

“What you really are?” Pete questioned. Patrick had had another session with Lori, without Pete again and whilst he was glad that Patrick was getting the help he needed, he was being more frank about his issues without explaining them in detail. “I'll just tell them that you've been going through a hard time and we're reconnecting. You can chill with Bronx as I do the DJ-ing, but I promise I'll be back as soon as it's over.”

“Yeah I don't wanna have any, uh, issues in your childhood bed. I don't wanna go that low.”

“That would be pretty awkward, but we can just blame Bronx if anything goes wrong.” Pete winked, or tried to. Patrick took that as his word and smile.

It was always weird returning home. Pete spent so much of his life in his parents house, way into their success as a band, and no matter what house he bought in LA and filled with his own stuff, none of it would feel as familiar as his parents house.

Bronx ran right up to Pete’s mother when they got to the house. She picked him up as she waved to Pete and Patrick and they all headed inside. Patrick was a little frantic, his awkwardness coming out pretty strong as Pete’s mom fussed around him.

Patrick was quiet, but Pete’s mom had always been intuitive and didn't push it when Patrick just smiled at her and sat dead still next to Pete on the couch as Bronx tore around the house, lighting it up with his laughter. It was sort of awkward, pretending that his mom had no idea that they'd been distant for years now.

 

“I think I'm gonna go see my mom,” Patrick said later that afternoon. They'd been sitting in the backyard with Bronx, watching him on the swing that had been there since Pete was little.

“You haven't seen her in a while.” Pete stated the obvious and Patrick nodded. “Are you going to tell her what happened?”

“I don't know. I don't think so, I wouldn't know how,” Patrick said, fingers twisting in his lap. Pete's mom was on the phone to her sister, twittering with excitement about having her grandson back in the house. “What time is your gig?”

“Ten, so I won't leave till around eight. I'm not sure how long I'll be gone for, but I have some sleeping pills if you need to take them.” Pete knew it would probably suck for Patrick. He barely slept well with Pete beside him, let alone in a different house on his own. “You need a lift to your mom's?”

“No, I'll get a cab.” Patrick smiled, nudging their shoulders together. Pete laughed wrapping an arm over his shoulder.

“How many fob songs do you think I can slip into the set tonight?”

“One and a half may be your limit,” Patrick laughed. “But I think we had some good shit over the years.”

“Me too,” Pete dropped his arm as Patrick pulled his phone from his pocket. “I'm kinda scared about getting in a cab on my own, but I wanna do it.”

“Wait here, and I'll check to see what company mom has in the kitchen, they'll be legit.” Pete stood up, but his mom was standing by the French windows, smiling down at them both.

Patrick drove off not twenty minutes later, and after a tantrum, Bronx was asleep in his bedroom that he had at his grandparents. Pete was half catching up with his mom and half wondering how Patrick was doing.

“I'm glad you came round to the idea of you and Patrick in the end. I always knew you'd be good together.” Pete frowned at his mother's words, fading back into what she was saying.

“What are you talking about?”

“You and Patrick, sweetie. He was so sweet when you were younger that I was worried for him because of how you were back then, but you're settled now and I saw you both outside. You really do care for him.”

‘Mom, we're not together. And he's not in love with me. I think I would know,” Pete laughed, cutting into his mother before she made things worse. “He's been through some stuff recently and he turned to me for help.”

“Well I stand by what I said previous. It was obvious he had feelings for you, and by the looks of things, you've fallen for him back.” She was smiling, like she was so happy about it. Pete didn't really know how to explain things to her.

“Patrick was seeing a guy for a while, but he… hurt him with a friend and so he's been staying with me. I didn't want to tell you, I promised I wouldn't say anything, We hardly used the ‘r’ word at all, but even if he did like me, he wouldn't anymore. I don't think he'll be ready for any kind of shit like that for a long time.” Pete felt sick by the end, could feel his heart racing and his eyes watering. He had a weird trigger toward the word _rape_ now. It had never been a thing he thought of much, knew it to be horrendous, but he'd never felt it personally.

“Oh my goodness, the poor thing. No wonder he seems so lost.” She came over, hugging Pete tight around the shoulders. He sunk into her, holding her tight. “The poor boy.”

“I'm looking after him, mom, but that's all I'm doing,” Pete said, begging her to understand him. “I'm not gonna take advantage of him.”

 

Pete felt oddly misplaced in a DJ booth after so long of just chilling at home with Patrick and Bronx. He liked it though, having the pulsate beat through his veins, the atmosphere heavy and tight. There were people he recognized as avid fans of the band from years ago and a few hangers on that hadn't quite let go yet.

Pete had a few drinks in the booth, watching the crowd grind and dance. He felt eyes on the side of his face and turned to see a pretty girl, twenty-something with long blonde hair bouncing down past her waist.

Pete calls her over with a wag of his finger. He hadn't fooled around with anyone since Brendon. There was no chance with what he had going on at home, but he also didn't have any desire to when he was hanging out at home. But now, with a pretty girl walking over to him in a sexy dress, he can't help but lust for some fun.

There was mutual flirting on both sides. Pete didn't have much to do other than select songs and act into them for a bit, but he had his arm over her the entire time, showing her how to get paid $13000 for doing nothing.

He went back to her apartment with her. She was hardly out of student digs by the state of it and she looked younger out of the club lights, but Pete didn't care for that. The sex was fine, over with quick, but she moaned loudly and didn't leave any marks over his body. He came inside the condom and laid beside her until she fell asleep.

By the time he had a cab hailed back to his parents house, it was after three and the house was silent. He crept through it until he got to his old bedroom. The light was still on and he pushed open the door to see Patrick sitting up, writing in his diary, with Bronx passed out next to him in the bed.

Pete felt guilty when Patrick looked at him with a soft smile. He didn't know why because he wasn't in a relationship with Patrick and he still wasn't convinced by his mother's comment that Patrick had loved him for so long.

“You had an imposter in the night?” Pete laughed, sitting beside his sleeping kid.

“Yeah, he didn't want to be alone and I said he could chill with me.” Patrick smiled at Pete, closing his book in his lap.

“Alright. Well, I'll just put this little dude to bed and have a shower before crashing,” Pete said, grabbing Bronx in his arms and carrying him into his bedroom. Pete took a hot shower afterwards, feeling like he needed to scrub the sex and perfume away, more than the sweat of the club.

Patrick was laying down in the bed when Pete creeped in, and he smiled again as Pete pulled some underwear on and flopped beside him.

“Good show? You smell better now than you did,” Patrick laughed, rolling onto his belly so he was facing Pete. He seemed… at peace if that was the correct thing. Pete didn't know. He was pretty tired.

“Yeah, it was fine.” Pete didn't mention the girl. Truthfully he couldn't recall her name by this point. “What were you writing when I got back?”

“Lori wants me to write down what happened that night… My feelings about it, so I was trying to get it out but it's hard.” Patrick pressed his lips together, but he didn't look close to crying. “I dunno. I'm trying to purge it onto the page, but I'm realizing that I don't think I even know what I'm feeling.”

“That's what she's there for,” Pete said and then stared into Patrick's open face, his large eyes blinking sleepily. “Hey, my mom said something wild today.”

“Oh yeah?” Patrick leaned in closer, fingers curled under his chin. “Like what?”

“Uh.” Pete stared into that soft familiar face and figured he didn't want to spoil it, whatever this was, by digging up past feelings and emotions. “Nothing. It's nothing that won't keep.”

Patrick slept pretty well that night. Pete didn't, but it wasn't unusual for him to toss and turn and with all the guilt in his head over the night before it was even worse. He spent half an hour just staring at Patrick's sleeping face as the sun swept into the bedroom. Patrick was curled on his side, facing Pete.

Pete hadn't realized just what a sweet face Patrick had. For all the stage gay he'd forced at Patrick over the years, he's always just been _Patrick._ He'd never looked much past _incredibly short, pale, blond._ As he stared now he could see that Patrick was pale enough that he had a light dusting of freckles over his nose, just noticeable in the morning light. A light blush as he slept too, the room too hot for him. Even if his hair was thinning, it was a warm shade of strawberry blonde that he'd never really noticed. He hadn't ever thought about it. 

To be having such thoughts about his oldest best friend was weirding him out somewhat, but he couldn't really care. It just seemed so calm and settling to stare and stare and stare. He stared and thought about things for a long time, until Patrick's forehead creased up and his mouth pursed open.

“Morning Sleeping Beauty,” Pete said, laughing when Patrick frowned at him, pushing his hand into his face. “Sleep well?”

“I did, yeah.” Patrick flopped onto his back, rolling his shoulders. “I guess I'll sleep well wherever as long as you're beside me.”

"Aww, thanks.” Pete couldn't help the grin that stretched lazily over his face. His mom's words weren't something he truly believed, but they'd wormed their way inside his head. 

When Patrick left to take his morning shower, Pete went to find Bronx who was already terrorizing Pete's dad over what he wanted for breakfast.

“Patrick says that cereal is the best meal of the day so I want cereal!” Bronx shouted, as Pete's dad looked down at the cold toast on his grandson's plate.

“Patrick's leaving a strong impression on him,” his dad said, noticing Pete hovering by the coffee pot. “It's good. I always liked that kid.”

“Dad, I already had this conversation with mom yesterday,” Pete said, smiling when Bronx jumped into his lap, full of energy already.

“Your mom filled me in on everything,” his dad said quietly, as Pete poured milk onto his son's sugary cereal. “Are the police involved? I know some good lawyers. All you need to do is ask.”

“I know, but you know why he wouldn't want anyone involved. He wants to move on and I'm helping him,” Pete said, smiling at his dad. “It's best just to move on from that.”

“Just wanted to offer some help, but whatever happens I'm always going to support you and him, whatever.” Pete's dad wasn't really an emotional guy and usually talked around his feelings, but the clasped hand to his shoulder held a lot of emotion, Pete could tell.

“Patrick!” Bronx’s squeal had them all looking up to see Patrick standing awkwardly in the doorway. He waved to Pete and his dad before sitting down next to Pete.

“Hey, Mr Wentz,” Patrick said, “Morning Bronx.”

“Nice to see you, Patrick.” Pete's dad managed to keep any over the top concern out of his voice. “I'm gonna leave you three to it and head to the office.”

“Bye-bye Grandad,” Bronx said, scooping his cereal into his mouth. He was happy chattering away to Patrick between mouthfuls of his breakfast as Pete poured a coffee for Patrick.

“Hey, I've been talking to Michael. He was my guitarist on tour. He says Rubano and Casey are both in town and want to meet at a bar later. I'd like to go, but not on my own.” Patrick bit his lip as Pete sipped his coffee. He was surprised Patrick wanted to meet up when he hadn't spoken to anyone since the attack.

“I can go with you, it's fine. As long as you're sure about going.” Patrick smiled so large with relief that Pete couldn't help but soften.

“Can I come, Patrick?” Bronx asked seriously. Patrick laughed, but shook his head.

“I don't think it's your kind of thing, kiddo, but we'll do something fun in the day,” Patrick said, holding out his pinkie for Bronx to catch with his own. “Pinkie promise.”

Pete didn't even know Patrick's band; briefly recalled Matt Rubano from his Taking Back Sunday days, but the other two were no names in Pete's world, but if Patrick wanted to meet them with Pete, then that's fine by him.

Patrick was living on hysterical nerves that night. Pete watched him get ready, but could feel the nerves radiating from him with every shaky breath as he combed his hair, wearing more of Pete's clothes.

“You don't have to do this, Patrick,” Pete told him, wondering whether Patrick would drop dead with nerves on the cab ride downtown. Patrick was holding tight to Pete's hand, nails digging in.

“I want to see my old friends, but they… they knew the Patrick that got… that got raped, you know?” Patrick's voice came out shaky as he held a hand to his forehead. “How could they want to be friends with me knowing that I, like, forced this to happen.”

“What the fuck are you talking about, man?” Pete couldn't understand it, that Patrick's fear of meeting old friends meant punishing himself with blame once more. “They'll just be glad to see you.”

“But they saw what he saw… that's who I was when I met him,” Patrick said and then he started crying. It came out of nowhere, and Pete didn't know what to do, but hold Patrick close. His eyes met the driver's through the mirror, but he didn't care, just held his friend, stroking behind his ear in the way that he seemed to love.

“Your friends love you, okay? And I'm going to be with you all the way. No matter what, just know that none of this is your fault.” Pete kissed the side of Patrick's face, glad to have him resting against him. It didn't seem too much like a panic attack, more a huge crushing weight of misplaced blame.

When they were outside the bar, Patrick was quiet, but fairly calm. Pete wanted to turn the cab around and take them back to his parents house for the night, but Patrick looked ready to fight on.

“Just keep holding my hand, okay?” Pete said as he paid the fare and they left the cab. “It will be crowded but anytime you want to go that's fine.”

“They won't see what he saw… “ Patrick muttered to himself, repeating what Pete had told him. “I want to see my friends.”

Pete held Patrick's hand and guided him through the bar. It wasn't too busy, no one was chest to chest, but it was still loud and stuffy. He found Patrick's old band mates sitting in a corner booth as they made their way over. Pete had never been the best people person and could sense the shock and trepidation on all three faces as they approached.

“Patrick!” Michael said, arms open to Patrick. He was tall, with hair on the red side of blond and a warm smile for Patrick, who stood stock still for a few moments before approaching Michael. He flinched at first when Michael pulled him in, but was then clawing back on his tip toes, as he pressed his face into his friend's chest. Pete watched, hating himself for the slight pang of jealously that rocked his chest as he watched.

“Pete fucking Wentz!” Pete turned to the voice of Matt Rubano, shaking his hand and then Casey’s, who he knew of from the New York music scene, but hadn't ever met. “Nice to see you!”

“Yeah, you too.” Pete said, turning to see that Patrick had finally pulled away from Michael with wet eyes and shaking hands. He suddenly pressed to Pete as they sat down, as Rubano insisted on getting the two of them drinks.

“What's happened? I'm getting weird vibes,” Casey asked, leaning forward with a bright smile as they all sat down.

“I've just had a bad few months is all,” Patrick said. “This is Pete, by the way.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Michael didn't sound best pleased about it. He probably only knew the bad stuff from their friendship. Pete didn't want to fight, didn't want to get things off to a bad start with him. It was a good thing he seemed protective. “What happened?”

“Something I was too dumb to stop,” Patrick muttered, holding Pete's hand beneath the table. “I'm so sorry you guys.”

“What's the skinny?” Pete looked up at Rubano’s voice, as he came back with two Cuba libres. He was concerned. It was as if the loud sounds of the bar had fallen away with the atmosphere around the table. “Somethings up.”

“Why is Pete here?” Michael asked and Patrick shifted closer to Pete.

“Because he's my friend and he's been helping me out…” Patrick licked his lips, taking a heavy intake of his drink. “I really wanted to see all you guys again, but I couldn't do it without Pete. Whatever you think about him... It's not the same anymore.”

Pete felt light with the way Patrick's words made him feel. “Patrick, you don't have to tell them anything,” Pete whispered, remembering only a few days prior when Patrick was adamant no one else was ever to know.

“I was assaulted a while back by a guy that I thought wanted me and now I'm like this. I haven't been in a bar since that night and that's why I'm so edgy.”

“Jesus Christ.” Rubano turned to Casey, who was shaking his head in horror. Michael had been staring at Patrick, a look of disbelief on his face before he stared at Pete instead.

“Sexually assaulted?” Michael whispered and Pete hated him for the nod Patrick gave. “I wanted to come here and for it to be a good fucking catch up so I'm sorry. I feel I've ruined everything for everyone.”

“What makes you think that?” Pete turned away at Michael's words, aware that they were aimed somewhat at him.

“I think it's just one of my issues, but that's just the way I feel,” Patrick shrugged, “Pete's really helping me so please, go easy on him.”

“It's not as easy as that,” Michael admitted and Pete felt fucking shitty. Casey suddenly started shaking his head, holding out his hand to Pete.

“Hey man. Thank you for looking after my little guy.” Pete shook his hand, watching Casey wink at Patrick.

“It would be cool if we don't talk about it. I have a shrink and Pete to help with that stuff,” Patrick said. “I don't really want people knowing, but I owed it to you guys to let you know. I know you all put up with a lot of shit for me.”

“It was no shit playing with you,” Casey said, looking like he wanted to lean over and touch Patrick if he didn't look so ready to shatter at any misstep.

“I know, but the whole thing failed.” Patrick rubbed at his forehead, a nervous tick for him. “And now I've ruined everyone's night.”

“How about you let us be the judge of that?” Michael said and Patrick laughed softly. It put a soft look on his features as he stared down at his lap.

“I think you've said that to me on more than one occasion,” Patrick admitted softly. “Okay. So, how are you guys?”

The conversation was awkward at first. It was like an icebreaker where they went around the table talking about their life, but eventually things lightened up. Pete left the table briefly to get Patrick a lemonade because he didn't want to touch his alcohol mix. Patrick gave Pete a grateful look. It was awesome having a friendship that didn't need many words to be understood. They'd always been that way, but it seemed stronger now.

Then when the conversation had all dried up and the drinks finished, they all went outside to wait for their cabs. Patrick was engrossed in a conversation about some obscure jazz record that Casey had picked up and Michael tugged Pete to the side when Rubano had left for his bus.

“Look, I'm sorry if I come off cold, but you have to realize that I don't exactly have a great opinion of you based on prior knowledge,” Michael said. He was so tall that Pete had to crane his neck to look.

“He must've told you a lot for you to know about our friendship.” Pete was a little twitchy at the conversation. What the fuck did this nerd know anyway? 

“He didn't have to tell me everything but we all performed his songs every night, you start to pick out what he's feeling when he's performing.”

“Look, we've put all of that behind us, okay? And all I care about now is getting him stable and safe again. You want that too, right? He needs supportive friends, not anything else,” Pete said, watching Michael slowly nod and clap a hand to Pete's shoulder.

“You're right, but I need to look out for him. He's like a little brother to me,” Michael said again. “He's depending on you now more than ever.”

“I know.” Pete nodded his head as Patrick stumbled over, the conversation over for now. He and Patrick had grown apart for the past few years, but he hadn't worked out that there'd been so much hurt and resentment on his friend's side. “Thanks for the talk.”

 

Later that night, when they'd both showered and were laying in Pete's old bed, Patrick lay facing Pete with shower-dark hair and flushed cheeks.

“I kinda thought I wouldn't freak out and now I'm so pissed that I got so upset about it,” Patrick murmured. “Thought I was passed the stage where I was crying all over you. Now I want a fucking lobotomy.”

Pete laughed, stroking the hair back from Patrick's head. “You've done well dealing with flying and being out of my house back in LA and seeing my mom _and_ yours. It's not a blip, but something that's just like… a hurdle to get over.”

“I just thought I was doing well.” Patrick sighed, tucking his thumb between his teeth as if in thought. “I nearly started crying all over Michael too.”

“Can I ask if anything ever happen between you two?” Pete questioned the silent atmosphere he'd felt all night.

“No,” Patrick laughed, his arm folding over his chest as he rolled onto his back. “I had a little crush on him, but only because of how musically intelligent he is. I'm way too enamored with him to actually want to date him and he's straight anyway.”

“He's as protective of you as I am,” Pete joked but it was hardly a lie.

“Yeah, but I think he sees me as a little kid. I guess cause he was older.” Patrick hugged himself, sighing softly. “He's a good guy, like, he always knew what to say after bad shows. There were a lot of them.”

“You always liked the older men,” Pete said and Patrick nudged his side. It detracted from the last part. Pete didn't want to think about the heckling, jeers and boos Patrick got. “Nah, I'm just kidding. I'm glad you have such decent friends.”

“All three of them were awesome to me. I do feel good for them knowing,” Patrick stretched his little legs out, wiggling his toes. “I'm not sure how well I'll sleep tonight. It doesn't feel like a good night.”

“You wanna write in your diary?” Pete asked, but Patrick shook his head.

“I just wanna sleep,” Patrick admitted. “If you stay with me, I'll be okay.”

Pete nodded, letting Patrick curl up against his side as he shut the light off. They weren't cuddling in the romantic sense, but Patrick snuggled close for comfort and received it with ease, falling quickly to sleep.

Pete had too many thoughts in his head though; thinking about Michael's words and Patrick's tears in the cab and remembering how they'd all looked at him with distaste when they first spotted him with their old friend.

After an hour of listening to Patrick's soft steady breathing Pete still couldn't sleep. He reached for his iPod on the nightstand and nudged the speakers into his ears. Remembering Michael's words about playing Patrick's music every night and understanding Patrick's pain, Pete found _Soul Punk_ and listened to it start to finish.

Halfway through he'd already put together an image in his head over his friend's emotions and he hated himself for not seeing it earlier. It all made sense at last, the way he'd made Patrick feel all those years ago; all those things he hadn't seen. Pete knew he was prone to ignoring things he didn't want to deal with, but he hadn't realized he'd been so blind to his own best friend.


	8. Chapter 8

Patrick was subdued the next day. He showered for as long as he normally did, but even Bronx was being quiet as they packed up, as if he knew there was something not quite right. Still, it was Patrick’s hand that Bronx wanted to hold on the way through the airport. As Pete’s kid slept on the flight back to LA, Pete turned to Patrick.

“You’ve been quiet since last night.” He didn’t know quite how to put it. Patrick turned to Pete, shrugging his shoulders as if he knew the question hidden behind the statement.

“I just feel really tired. Like what it’s like after a long tour, you know, where every cell in my body is just wiped.”

“Last night was really overwhelming, but it was a hurdle.” Pete patted Patrick’s hand, half surprised when Patrick turned his own palm over so their fingers interlocked.

“I just want to sleep for days,” Patrick admitted. “I feel so old.”

“You'll never be as old as me. Physically _and_ mentally. ” Pete squeezed Patrick's hand, smiling when he got a squeeze back.

It felt like they'd been gone forever and took a good while to get back into the swing of things. Patrick slept as Pete took Bronx back to Ashlee's. In all honesty, Patrick slept maybe two days on and off before resurfacing. He didn't eat much, but he was almost back to his current different-usual self when his therapy session rolled around.

“You not feeling it today?” Pete asked. Patrick hadn't exactly been excited about therapy, but he'd been pretty focused on it before they went to Chicago. Now he was quiet the whole ride to his session.

“Just don't want to rehash what happened at the weekend. Having to explain embarrassing myself.”

“You didn't embarrass yourself, but you don't have to talk about it. Just say how you coped with it… it was the first stressful situation and she'll wanna hear that.” Pete knew from experience to talk about this shit. Patrick may not like it, but he'd be better for it in the end.

Pete sat in the car while Patrick went to his session. He had an OTT email from his mom, telling him to look after Patrick and visit more often. He ignored it, instead finding himself thumbing through paparazzi photos of him leaving the club with the girl a few days back. He'd forgotten all about her and felt shitty about it from all angles. Patrick was back almost as soon as his hour was up and by the hunched shoulders, it wasn't a great session.

“You wanna talk about it?” Pete asked when Patrick climbed into the car, but he shook his head and shut his eyes, resting the side of his face against the window.

Patrick was like a sad zombie wandering around the house that night. Pete, as usual, didn't know what to do about it. In the end he drew Patrick a bath with a ton of bubbles and lit some candles around it. Patrick seemed baffled when Pete dragged him into the bathroom, but his skin caught a pretty blush that sent Pete a little bit confused.

“You always used to like baths and candles are, like, relaxing and shit. It might be a good way to unwind.” Pete pushed Patrick gently towards the steaming bathtub. “Take your time to forget about everything.”

Pete left Patrick to it, cleaning up his house a little. He ended up in a walk-in closet where he stored all his gifted alcohol. There was a lot of champagne because he never had any reason for it. He pulled a bottle and ran a finger through the dust. He grabbed two glasses and walked through the house until he reached the den. When Patrick wandered in an hour later, his skin was still pink and he was in plaid pajamas pants and one of Pete's Iron Maiden shirts.

“That was romantic,” Patrick said, taking a seat beside Pete, frowning at the champagne that Pete held out for him. “What are we celebrating?”

“Nothing really, but you had a shitty day so what could be better than a romantic bath, champagne with your best friend as we watch 80’s comedies?”

“I know it's a cliche to say it, but I swear the bubbles go straight to my head.” Patrick tapped his temple, tucking his feet under his thighs. “This is awesome, though. Thanks.”

“That’s alright. _Blues Brothers_ alright?” Pete asked, but Patrick was already nodding his head enthusiastically. As they watched the movie, getting drunk on expensive booze, Pete couldn’t help but think it felt like the Friday nights he’d spent with girlfriends over the years. When they were halfway through the movie, Patrick flopped against Pete’s side. The atmosphere almost felt romantic. Maybe it was the booze, but Pete was pretty glad to be having a therapy session the day after.

Patrick was okay about being left alone the next day as Pete went to see Joanna. Pete was surprised enough that he asked Patrick if he was sure, but he nodded his head. “Yeah, I’ll survive. I was feeling shitty yesterday, but I'm glad I went now. Is that normal?”

“Yeah. I’d say so. I think it means it’s working. I’ll be back soon, alright.” Pete almost wanted to lean over and kiss Patrick’s forehead, but that would be too much, so he just grabbed his keys and left. Pete felt like he was frothing at the mouth with all he had to tell Joanna. It felt like a lifetime ago that he saw her. He was bouncing on her leather couch, palms spread over his knees.

“So, like. I _think_ that Patrick’s been in love with me since...well forever. Like, we went back to Chicago and my mom told me and I didn’t believe her, but I met one of Patrick’s friends and I listened to his record and so now I think he was in love with me and I think he might still be, but what happened to him has absolutely fucked with that.”

Joanna laughed when he finally finished. “Sounds like you’ve got a lot of unpacking to do.”

“I just don’t know what to think about it. Like, I don’t know. I don’t think he feels that way now, but I just keep thinking about all the ways I hurt him. I never paid him any thought like that...you know? I made jokes but I didn’t mean it and now I can see how much that hurt him.”

“What makes you think his feelings have changed?”

Pete stared at her blankly. “Well, uh. I don’t think he’s that way inclined right now. I don’t think he’ll ever want to get with a guy ever again. Sometimes he wakes up all freaked out and hides out in the bathroom and I know it’s because he’s got morning wood. Like, he can’t cope with his own erection, how would he deal with mine?”

“You’re not usually this pragmatic.”

“I know. I’m just gonna forget about it, I think. What’s the point in embarrassing him with it? He’s going through enough. He can't walk out the house without thinking he's humiliated himself in some way, you know? I don't wanna add to it.”

Joanna gave him a sharp look. “Your feelings are important too, Pete. It’s not healthy to push them away.”

“But I don’t know what my feelings are,” Pete admitted. “It’s kinda hard to work out whether you’re in love with someone when you've cleaned their piss from your bed sheets or telling them it's not their fault they got fucking raped five times a day.” Pete realized it sounded kinda harsh, but Joanna was there for this kind of stuff. “Maybe if things were different, maybe if he hadn’t been hurt like this. I'm a different guy now, but so is he.”

Pete left the session feeling good. Sometimes he just needed to purge it out. Now that the thoughts around Patrick’s feelings for him were out of his head he had more room to think. He had that buzz to deal with first though, where he needed to follow his dick into something filthy to kill the post-shrink adrenaline. He knew Brendon was still around, he always was, and he set him a quick text, sitting in his car as he waited for a response. Pete fucked him quick and dirty in the hall of his hotel room before he was driving back home. Brendon looked like he wanted longer this time, but Pete couldn't deal with someone else's issues too. 

Patrick was sitting at the breakfast bar with Pete’s laptop when he got home. He gave Pete a perfunctory look, pasty faced and awkward before turning away. Pete laughed to himself, realizing he was walking back into another crisis. At least he had more room in his head to deal with it now.

“What’s up, Lunchbox?” Pete asked, feeling loose boned now he’d let go with Brendon. His sex life had greatly decreased since Patrick reentered his life and even if he did feel misplaced guilt at times, he needed the relief. He grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator and then took a seat beside Patrick.

“I was feeling good and productive so I thought I’d look through some of those lyrics you told me about,” Patrick started to say and then frowned. “But I got triggered and I started getting flashbacks. I don’t understand why.”

“Shit. What song?” Pete turned the screen towards him, but Patrick had already exited out of whatever lyrics he’d been looking at.

“Um. The one about Death Valley? But it was like, I don’t know. It reminded me of like those couple of weeks after it happened when I was with you. It feels like us, but them too. It scares me because I don’t wanna touch it.”

“Dude, throw the song in the trash. Anything that makes you feel like that can be scrapped.” Pete went to find the song, but Patrick closed the lid, just missing Pete’s hand. “I actually wrote that before this all happened. It’s pretty harsh lyrically, but not intentionally about you.”

“It’s like the chorus parts feel like you and me but the verses... that sort of keeps giving me flashbacks to my rapists.” Patrick shut his eyes and took a few deep breaths, he hadn’t ever called them that before and it felt new to the conversation. “Can we...maybe over the next few days work on this? It feels important, but I don’t know why. I just want to break past this.”

“If you really want to work on this song, sure. I have other ones though that might seem less personal to you.” There were signals going off in Pete's head, telling him to shut this shit down right now. He didn't know how to say no when Patrick seemed determined. 

“No. I’ve got a feeling about this one, otherwise I wouldn’t have reacted so weirdly, but you know, if it all gets fucked up I guess we can go back and play pretend like it never happened?” Patrick’s eyes were red from where he’d been panicking, but Pete’s head was stuck on that last line.

“That last line...I’m stealing it for a song,” Pete said, grabbing his phone and typing it in his notes so he didn’t forget. “You’ll thank me for it one day.”

“Whatever,” Patrick muttered, but then he was suddenly pulling at Pete’s neckband. “Gross. Is it like routine to have sex with Brendon after therapy?”

Pete almost choked as he looked up from his phone. Only goddamn Brendon would leave hickies when Pete specifically asked him not to. “Sorry, Patrick.”

“Don’t be sorry. You have needs that clearly only Brendon can meet.” Pete looked at Patrick, wondering why he didn’t seem disappointed at all. Then, Pete figured at the height of Patrick’s love for him, he hadn’t noticed a damn thing. Patrick could just hide things like that.

“It’s like...you know how you get exhausted and sad after your therapy?” Pete waited for Patrick to nod. “Yeah, I’m like the opposite. There’s a lot of pent up frustration.”

“It makes you sexually frustrated?” Patrick pulled a face, like he couldn’t understand. It was pretty cute how squishy his features got and Pete threw an arm over Patrick’s shoulder, bringing him in for a hug. “I'd take my reaction over yours.”

They spent the next day with notebooks spread out on the floor of the den, with Patrick’s laptop booted up and connected to a microphone. Pete found one of Patrick’s guitars and fiddled with it as Patrick stayed hunched up reading through the lyrics that he’d printed out. His hands were shaking, like he was fighting to calm down. Then he reached for a highlighter pen next to the notepad and highlighted the same line all the way through.

_“It’s just fire alarms and losing you,”_ Pete read over Patrick’s shoulder, leaving a questioning silence at the end of his statement.

“That feels like you. Like when I was in the hospital and all I could think about was having you there,” Patrick confessed softly.

“It kinda describes how I feel when you’re having a nightmare,” Pete said. “I guess it suits us both, then.”

“I like the pattern of the song…” Patrick filtered off. “The first verse is like the bad stuff and if I highlight that line then it’s like you’re waiting there for me...it’s lame. Kinda like an anchor I guess, reeling me in before I get too upset.”

“No. That’s good. It’s a rough song though, I think it needs to stay kind of dirty?” Pete paused and felt suddenly like he’d said the wrong thing when Patrick stayed silent. “That was a shitty way to put it, I just mean it’s a fast one, right?”

“Yeah.” Patrick got his voice back somewhat. He kept stroking his thumb over one of the highlighted lines like it soothed him. “The lyrics are pretty violent to me so I wouldn’t want it soft.”

“It it’s too much--” Pete started to say, but Patrick shook his head harshly, turning to look at Pete.

“No. I really want to do this.”

Patrick ended up recording the vocals down into some form of melody. His voice was kind of harsh by the end, but he had the formation of a song. It was disconcerting how peppy it actually sounded considering the feelings and memories it brought out of Patrick. 

He played around in GarageBand for a bit, setting a tempo and recording a little guitar but then they were done for the day. Pete sometimes forgot how useless he could be when recording the actual music, but it amazed him that Patrick had all that talent in his head.

“You wanna cry and eat pizza?” Pete asked when they were done for the day. They were both pretty exhausted by it. Pete kinda hated himself for writing the song. “I know I do.”

“Yeah, pretty much.” Patrick was smiling at Pete’s comment but he had dark circles beneath his eyes and he looked as beat as he did after therapy. “I think I wanna put the song away for now though and not touch it for a long time.”

“Good call,” Pete said, wondering for the first time in years, whether there was an implication in Patrick’s words about getting the band back together again.

 

Things sort of improved from there. It became a regularity for Pete to make the nights after Patrick's therapy a kind of therapeutic thing. They watched nostalgic movies and drank expensive champagne and it was okay. Now that Patrick was okay at being left alone for some of the day, Pete found himself seeking out people to hook up with after his own sessions. It was sometimes Brendon, sometimes other people. Patrick knew, but he never brought it up and so they never had a conversation about it. Andy came and stayed with them for a few days, but Joe stayed away. It was harder for him, what happened to Patrick, he took it harder than anyone else.

By the time Bronx’s fourth birthday party rolled around, things had changed quite a bit. Patrick wasn’t really okay around huge groups of people, but he could fake it better and Bronx was determined to have Patrick sit beside him at his Lego themed party. Ashlee, of course, took that as her chance to interrogate Pete.

“Bronx tells me you share a bed. So you are a couple, right?” Pete was really regretting having had agreed to a joined birthday party. He gave her a look, watching Bronx goad Patrick into building a lego tower with him.

“No, we’re not a couple. It’s complicated, Ashlee. I told you this a billion times,” he said, watching her raise an eyebrow at him.

“You know I’d be happy for you, right? You don’t have to hide things. If you don’t tell me, I’ll ask Patrick and he’ll be too polite to say no to me,” she laughed, acting as if Patrick was her best friend. It was weird, they hadn’t liked each other much when Pete had been married to her.

“We’re just best friends that share a bed,” Pete said, and that still felt kind of like a lie even if it was the truth. “Did you know...did you know that he had feelings for me back then.”

She gave him a sweet smile. “Of course I did. The only person that didn’t know was you. I hope you do manage to work things out, it’d make everyone a lot happier.” She floated off after that, to canoodle with her new boyfriend and Pete was left wondering how on earth he hadn’t ever seen it before.

Patrick had started to attend a support group for people in his situation. He'd been so against the idea that Pete was surprised when he one day turned around and said he'd joined Lori's group. Pete could see he was happy now that he’d started to attend and for selfish reasons, Pete was glad he had someone else to offload the assault onto. It fucked Pete up, having Patrick talk about it at times. 

“Can I invite them to the pool party? The guys from my group?” Pete was having an end of summer grill for everyone. It was a regular thing and Patrick had been apprehensive but agreeable about it. 

“Sure, no one has to know how you guys met,” Pete said, falling into the bed. Patrick was warm beside him and Pete was aware that this had shifted to being more domesticated than comforting these days. Patrick still had nightmares, but he'd learned to stop drinking fluids an hour before bed and that had helped _that_ side of things. He'd even cut his showers down to twice a day. He was healing. 

Patrick wanted to go shopping for new clothes before the pool party. It seemed in Pete's eyes a little like Patrick was almost coming out of his shell since his hiding in Pete's house. Another new Patrick for the world to see. 

It was going to be a challenge knowing how Patrick shopped in the past. He was picky and very short and still a lot thinner than he'd been in the past. He was eating full meals for the most part, sticking to the food plans Lori set out for him, but it was going to suck because he still wasn't overly comfortable around crowds.

“What do you want to wear? It's casual, but you look good in suits. I know you like a neat little jacket and pants duo,” Pete said as they roamed the mall. Patrick immediately shook his head.

“No. I don't want to wear suits anymore. That's what I was wearing before. That's what I wore when I met him,” Patrick said and Pete flinched. “I want cardigans and jeans. Black jeans like always.”

“Yeah. Why stray from black?” Pete had learned to talk around jagged moments. He didn't want Patrick getting upset, especially when they were out and about. From his own demons, panic attacks were always preferable when locked behind his own doors. 

In the end, he got more jeans just a size or two smaller than before. He got some cute button down shirts and cardigans; they got through it with little fanfare. By that point they were ready to grab something to eat. Pete bought them food from the closest stall. Patrick chewed on some fries, but mostly stuck to his shake.

Patrick wore his new clothes for the pool party, averting his eyes to his body in the mirror. Pete only knew because he was watching him from the corner. Patrick had hardly ever been vain, but he'd always been able to tolerate his reflection in the past.

“You look very cute,” Pete told Patrick, who flipped him off and stared down at his feet. He smiled when he looked up though.

“Fuck, I'm so nervous,” Patrick said. “I'm glad my support group is coming, I kept rattling on about it last session.” He went twice a week and came away from it a lot brighter than he did his weekly shrink sessions. 

“Our bedroom is off limits to everyone so just come up here if it feels too much. Take deep breaths,” Pete started to say but Patrick was laughing.

“No, I'm going to be okay. I will fake it.” Patrick gave a wide smile and then hugged Pete. Pete wrapped his arms around his friend, nose catching on the side of the new hat.

Once the first guests arrived, everyone else seemed to flood in. Pete had the grill going and people were diving into the pool. He kept half an eye on Patrick, who stuck close at first before a group of people Pete didn't recognize turned up. He seemed to lighten up at that, taking them through the house and to the kitchen for drinks.

“Sup bro!” Pete got a high five from a loud Brendon, who then decided to jump into the pool with his clothes on. It was a pretty good job that Bronx was with Ashlee. There was going to be booze around and Pete needed to keep an eye on Patrick. Drunk people were a trigger point that Patrick had recognized in his therapy. He'd been drinking the night it happened, it made sense.

Pete had let someone else take over the grill after a while and went to grab himself a beer, bumping into Andy on the way to the kitchen.

“Hey man, who are the guys Patrick's hanging out with?” Andy asked, catching sight of Patrick talking to his friends in the corner. They hadn't really ventured outside, but stuck to the far side of the kitchen.

“He goes to a support group for survivors, he met them there. It's awesome to see him socializing,” Pete said, turning back to his old friend. “Some stuff they understand more than I ever will.”

Andy's eyebrows raised in surprise. “Oh wow. That's awesome for him. He seems a lot better now.”

“He's wearing his own clothes,” Pete laughed. “Things are going good right now, but it's a slow thing. We take it day by day.”

“You've been a good friend to him, more than uh, made up for the stuff you put on him in the past.” Andy clapped Pete on the shoulder, but it wasn't the place for anything deep.

“That's not why I did it...I mean, it's not like a burden, or that I did it for any reason other than he needed me,” Pete said, trying not to feel offended by Andy's reaction. Andy shook his head, as if Pete misunderstood him. It also wasn't the place for a conversation like this. It was meant to be a good time. “Look, bud. Let's just party on and be glad we've made it through the past few months.”

It wasn't a teetotal party for a variety of reasons, in particular because it was a house full of alcohol dependent musicians, save for Andy. It was why Patrick's friends mostly left after a few hours. Pete didn't know anything about them other than they were all in the group for the same reasons Patrick was. That was enough to not even question why they departed so early. Patrick had a warm smile on his face though, as he bounced over to Pete a little later. Pete felt a heat wash over him at having such a bright look focused on him.

“They seemed nice,” Pete said, when Patrick took a seat on a lounger beside him. The music was playing and the guests were now in settled groups, either in the pool or hanging by the embers of the barbecue. “You seemed settled with them.”

“Yeah. I don't ever make friends outside of music these days, so it's strange. I don't know, bonding with people outside of the business,” Patrick laughed like it was absurd, but Pete shrugged. “Plus I was freaking out before they turned up and even though they left, I feel good still.”

“That's awesome.” Pete kind of wanted everyone to leave now, so it was just the two of them. He'd become a hermit of sorts, as he'd picked up the pieces of his own torn-up life over the past couple of years, but it had intensified since Patrick came back into his life. It was best when it was just the two of them. “Did you grab something to eat?”

“Yes.” Patrick nudged Pete's side, as if warning him to stop nagging. “Have you?”

“The chef always finds time for a snack, Patrick,” Pete winked, throwing his arm over Patrick's shoulder. Brendon was making loud noises in the pool, almost drowning out the sound of the music and Pete looked over at him briefly before smiling down at Patrick again. “It's kinda weird, but I feel like we're closer now than we ever were.”

“I think that too sometimes,” Patrick admitted, scratching his jaw lightly. “I'm more open with you now, I guess. I used to be pretty guarded and it was--”

“It was because I was a selfish narcissist,” Pete continued, rubbing his hand up and down Patrick's shoulder. “God, I hate myself for it. I know you put up with so much.”

“We're even. We're like a billion times even.” Patrick smiled at Pete again. “Let's not drag ourselves into the past tonight.”

“You're right. You're always right,” Pete laughed, tapping the tip of Patrick's nose gently. He scrunched it up and they both ended up giggling like a pair of idiots. “I gotta go piss and then pretend to mingle, but we'll catch up later.”

“Go be a social butterfly,” Patrick said, laughing loudly when Pete flapped his arms like wings. Pete was in the highest of spirits as he used the bathroom and chatted with some guys in the kitchen. It felt seriously good to have a backyard full of laughter.

He saw Patrick wander past at some point, but he didn't pay it any attention as he talked shit with some of the guys he employed at the label. Eventually though, he headed back outside. Most had departed the pool now and were chilling across the patio. Pete was just about to find someone to latch onto when Andy tugged on his wrist and pulled him aside.

“I'm gonna head out. Just, maybe try and keep your boyfriend in better check next time,” Andy said, to which Pete immediately became defensive.

“Patrick's hardly the type to cause an issue. He's been quiet all night,” he started to say, but Andy was shaking his head.

“Not Patrick, Brendon. Though, uh, your reaction shows where your loyalties lie.” He pulled Pete in tighter. “Brendon’s jealous of whatever is or isn't going on with Patrick, I didn't hear word for word, but he clearly upset Patrick.”

“What did he say?” Pete said, ignoring Andy's last part. “Please. Fuck. What did he say, or what did you think he said?”

Andy hesitated for a few seconds before relenting. “He made a joke about how Patrick's eased himself back into your life… probably by doing something that, uh. Ah shit, man. He said something about how flirty Patrick was when they toured together. I mean, I don't know word for word, but he obviously upset Patrick by it.”

“Motherfucker,” Pete said, his good evening thoroughly ruined. “Do you know how long it's going to take to convince Patrick that what happened wasn't his fault?”

“Don't shoot the messenger.” Andy held his hands out, stepping back. “I try and stay as far away from your affairs as possible, but you clearly have some shit to sort out.” Pete wasn't listening though. He was traipsing back through his house, away from the laughter and up into their bedroom.

Patrick was laying on the bed, curled up on his side. He wasn't crying, but his face was flushed as if he'd been panicking only minutes before. Pete knew what it looked like on Patrick almost as well as he knew his own reaction.

Patrick didn't say anything to Pete, who didn't know how to broach the subject. So instead he climbed on the bed behind Patrick and wriggled up until he was curled behind him, an arm sliding over Patrick's hip to rest on his stomach.

“Why are you spooning me when you have a party to host?” Patrick said, voice slurred and slow. He relaxed though, when Pete rubbed his thumb back and forth over the denim shirt he was wearing.

“Because I heard that Brendon may have said something that could make you think you were to blame for what happened.”

“It's not like every time someone calls me a slut that I'm going to react that way,” Patrick said softly and boy did Pete want to kill Brendon for saying something like that. “But he didn't sound like he was joking. So it got me wondering whether…”

“Don't you fucking wonder anything. All you did was trust someone.”

“Big mistake to trust him. I guess I just realized that not everyone will react like you did and I'm realizing that maybe… I don't know. Not everyone will understand like you did.”

“Brendon didn't mean it. He just makes stupid jokes.”

“It made me feel unclean again, like it was something that was inevitable because of who I am.” Pete tugged on Patrick's wrist, so that he rolled over so they were facing each other. He didn’t ever want to hear Patrick say that kind of shit again.

“Patrick, Brendon doesn’t know what happened and he’s too dumb to realize that jokes like that are shitty.”

“But I just said it didn’t feel like a joke.” Patrick raised his voice slightly, staring at Pete's t-shirt rather than his face. “He'd agree that I asked for it, for what happened because I was flirting with the man, because I invited him back to my place. He thinks that about me and so will other people.”

“Brendon won't ever know what happened unless you want him to.” Pete stroked his fingers through Patrick's hair. “And I think he was reacting to something else, rather than actually, like, being a deliberate piece of shit.”

“Jealousy's a bitch,” Patrick said, before pressing his forehead into the palm of his hand. Pete rubbed his own hand up and down Patrick's arm, telling himself that this was just a blip. “I won't ever trust him again.”

“No. I know that.” Pete hadn't envisioned anything like this happening, and he felt more guilt because he knew it was pretty much all about him. “Do you wanna stay up here now?”

“Yeah. But you should go enjoy the rest of your party. People will wonder where you've got to,” Patrick said, lifting his head. His pallor had lost the violent red it had been when Pete walked into the room and his cheeks now just held a low flush. _“Go on._ I'm just going to listen to some Tom Waits and pretend that the party ended before I saw Brendon.”

“If that's what you want,” Pete said, waiting for Patrick to nod his head before he sat up. Patrick was warm and his bed was inviting, but both would be here long after the party ended. He kissed the top of Patrick's head and rolled off the bed.

It felt weird leaving the warmth and safety of his bedroom as he reentered the party, no one else aware that there'd been an upset, which he was grateful for. There didn't need to be some grand stage for Patrick's mental stability to play out on. He smiled at everyone and nodded his head to the music, but he had noticed that the party and thinned out somewhat.

“Pete dude, tell Patrick no hard feelings!” Pete whipped his head around as he headed out onto his decking to see Brendon topless and wringing his damp hair with his t-shirt. He was smiling at Pete lazily, dark eyes shining. “When did he get so sensitive?”

“When did you get so possessive?” Pete snapped back, trying not to cause a scene. No one was really paying them any attention thankfully. “What happens between us is casual. We're clear on that, right?”

“Well, you know, I kinda get that, but then I see you two acting all _chummy_ when until recently things were kinda shitty between you both,” Brendon laughed, but Pete didn't want to hear any of it.

“That's bullshit. We've put it behind us and you need to just not try and piss either him or me off anymore. That's not why you were invited.” Pete figured it was the wrong thing to say when Brendon gave him a look between his lowered lashes.

“Oh yeah. We'll have to be quiet if Patrick's staying here.” Brendon put a hand on Pete's shoulder, but he stepped away, shaking his head and feeling like he was pretty much ready for everyone to leave. “I can be as good as you want me to.”

“I kinda just want you to leave me alone.” Pete's friends knew of his mood swings, so it wasn't new for Brendon to get snapped at, but he probably wasn't expecting such a reaction. He let it go though, and found someone else to bug, even if his eyes followed Pete around the party the rest of the night.

It took way too long for everyone to leave, but eventually the house was empty and his backyard was a wreck that they'd be cleaning up all day tomorrow, but he finally made his way back into the bedroom to see Patrick with damp hair in his PJ's with his headphones on.

Pete rested his head against Patrick's shoulder, shutting his eyes. “It stopped being fun after you left.”

“Are you talking about the party?” Patrick asked and Pete laughed, even if he had a point. Patrick paused the music he was listening to and tugged the headphones from his ear. He rested his cheek against the top of Pete's head, smelling like shower gel and fresh clothes.

“Are you okay after what happened?”

“Yep. We talk about trust issues a lot in therapy and I guess I knew I had them, but I didn't realize how bad they were until Brendon shattered them,” Patrick's laugh was slow and not all that joyful. “It's a lot to process.”

“Yeah, well I'm glad we had a good time up until that point.” Pete rolled onto his back, knowing that his clothes smelled like sweat, smoke and beer. Patrick didn't complain though, and just curled up onto his side, facing Pete.

“I had a really good time before that. I almost felt normal for once, for the first time in forever,” he admitted softly. “It's strange, I came across all these old demos of my music on my iPod, and I can hardly relate to the person that wrote them at all. I don't even know what my identity is anymore.”

“I feel like that sometimes. We'd play songs I wrote for some girl I swore I loved once, but could barely remember what she looked like,” Pete said, and it sounded shitty out loud but he'd never claimed to be a decent person.

“I have this song I wrote, but it sounded more like something we wrote together,” Patrick said softly, hands folded under his head as he stared at Pete. “I'm not ready for you to hear it yet, but one day I'd like you to.”

“Whenever you're ready.” Pete shut his eyes, waiting for Patrick to tuck his arm over Pete's chest and curl up properly against him. It was how they slept at night. Pete was fairly certain it comforted him just as much as Patrick. He fell asleep long before he could even think about how it would come across to anyone else.


	9. Chapter 9

They maintained their life fairly well for the next few weeks. They had their therapy sessions and Bronx stayed and it was fun. Patrick was getting more confident and started to go out alone to the store, and even picked Bronx up from Ashlee's a few times. It was awesome seeing how far Patrick had come since that night in the hospital. 

“You know, if you want me to move out at any point you can tell me,” Patrick said, when Pete had put Bronx to bed and they were sitting in the kitchen, listening to the dishwasher whirl.

“I don't want you to move out at all,” Pete said, staring at Patrick's open face. “Why would you even ask?”

“I just thought I should bring it up because it was supposed to be temporary but it's been, like, three months since we reconnected and I didn't want to outstay my welcome.” Patrick was tapping his fingers on the island, hunched over slightly.

“It's not possible for you to outstay your welcome, plus Bronx would have a _monumental_ tantrum if he found out you left. We both want you here for as long as possible,” Pete said, waiting until Patrick nodded before he stepped away. “Plus who would be my cuddle buddy otherwise?”

“You just want someone to spoon at night,” Patrick smirked. “I definitely feel happier now than I have for a long time.”

“That's awesome.” Pete was smiling so hard that his cheeks felt sore. It was touching that Patrick felt _happy._ There hadn't been much happiness for him in the past few years and it was almost overwhelming knowing he had a part in it.

By the time Thanksgiving rolled around they were back in Chicago. Patrick was with his own family, and Bronx was with Ashlee's, so he was stuck at his mom and dad's with no back up. He'd been texting Patrick all day, who was nervous about spending the night alone. He'd stolen Pete’s hoodie, so that he had something familiar as he slept that night. Pete had done the same, nabbing one of Patrick's. It was giving Pete warm fuzzy feelings inside and it was freaking him out.

“Mom, we need to talk,” Pete said, when everyone was overfed from her cooking. The rest of the family was watching TV as he pulled her out of the room and into the kitchen. She'd dealt with a lifetime of his freakouts and so calmly allowed him to pull her along until they were out of earshot from the rest of the family. “Okay, we need to talk about Patrick.”

“What about him,” she laughed. “You've been texting him all day, I'm sure he's fine.”

“You told me he was in love with me when we last visited and a few other people have made it pretty obvious. I think I always knew deep down and shut it off but now... I think now I might feel the same. No, I know I do and I don't know what to do about it.”

“Well, what do you want to do about it? How do you think he'd react?”

“He's wearing my clothes right now, so I know what that means, but I put off thinking about it for the past few months because he's healing from some serious shit and this could, like, fuck up his recovery.” Pete didn't care to curse in front of his mom, even if she still pulled a face like he was a teenager. “We're basically boyfriends, mom.”

“Then I don't understand the issue, honey. You guys have never been good at actually talking your issues out, but it's clearly time. Tell him how you feel and that you're ready for whatever he wants.”

Pete shook his head. “I don't want to hurt him like I do everyone else. Like, I couldn't bare it.”

“It sounds like you already hurt him pretty bad in the past and you've shown him you've changed now. Whatever happens, I'm sure he'll be willing to talk it out with you.” She had her hands on his shoulders and a kind look on her face. “He's a sweet boy, you know we all care for him.”

“Yeah, he is sweet.” Pete felt a little calmer for speaking to his mom, but he didn't want to break the relationship he had with Patrick now for any reason. It just seemed so perfect the way it was.

Pete didn't really sleep that night, but it was always hard when he was away from his bed in LA, plus he'd gotten so used to Patrick beside him that without a warm, cuddle dependent guy next to him, he just felt pretty cold. His phone started ringing around 1 AM and he saw Patrick's face pop up on the screen.

“Can't even think of falling asleep tonight,” Patrick said. “I feel like I know I'm going to have a nightmare and wake the house up.”

“You got any sleeping pills with you?” Pete asked, knowing the answer. It was the only thing he could think to ask.

“Nah, plus they make me so groggy the next day.” Patrick took in a deep breath, Pete could hear him shifting around on his bed. “Michael texted me earlier, wanting to know if we can meet up tomorrow. You're invited too, obviously. He's okay with you now.”

“I'm sure,” Pete laughed. “Damn, I forgot how cozy you make a bed until you're not in it.”

“Right, plus it is freezing in Illinois. Anyway, I should probably let you go so we can stay awake all night. I'll see you tomorrow.” Patrick hung up before Pete had a chance to respond. In the end he slept a little, but ended up more groggy than before.

Patrick looked as exhausted as Pete felt when Pete picked him up from his mom's house. They were both wrapped up in coats and their breath fogged the air even inside the car, but there was a huge amount of relief as he saw his friend in person. Pete’s dependency on Patrick seemed to have come tenfold since they reconnected. He'd not realized in how focused he'd been on his friend. 

Neither spoke much as they drove to where they were meeting Michael. It wasn't too busy in the cafe and Patrick more or less threw himself at Michael when he saw him, giving out one of his trademark Stump hugs. He wasn't overly affectionate with many people these days, but with the way his toes lifted off the ground as Michael accepted it, he was pretty willing with his old bandmate.

It was okay actually. Pete was a little wary about being around Michael considering the chewing out he got last time, but he obviously thought that Pete had done something alright in the past few months because he was amiable to him.

“So have you guys been writing at all?” Michael asked, after talking about what he'd been working on for the past few months. It all kind of went over Pete's head a little bit, but he nodded when he thought appropriate and smiled like he sort of got it.

“We write together sometimes. Some of it is a little _too_ personal,” Patrick said, probably thinking back to Death Valley. Pete still hated himself for writing that song. “But I don't know what we're gonna do with the songs.”

“You don't see FOB getting back together?” Michael asked innocently, though there was a glint in his eye that suggested he wasn't being as subtle as he wanted.

“I'd love to one day, but I feel like I'm still having to take it a day at a time. I couldn't deal with all that comes with it,” Patrick said, looking almost sick at the thought.

“Yeah, it wasn't healthy for any of us,” Pete started to say, suddenly worried about the conversation.

“You could always just write a record and not tour,” Michael suggested, not really helping Pete's own anxiety. Of course he'd thought about it, how could he not? But there were so many factors that put him off suggesting it. Joe hadn't really spoken to Pete much since he stayed, though he'd been in contact with Patrick.

“Writing is a little like therapy sometimes so I think for now I'll just continue with that and see how it goes,” Patrick said, holding his hand palm up, over his steaming coffee. 

“That sounds like a good idea,” Michael said. He seemed to have a whole lot of love for Patrick, it was written all over his face. “You seem so much stronger now. I'm proud of you.”

“Oh.” Patrick's face literally flooded with red heat, it was pretty funny and Pete choked back his laugh as Patrick glared sideways at him. “I am a lot better.”

Pete couldn't help but tease Patrick after they left, for turning as bright as a strawberry. They were making their way back to Pete's parents house before heading back to LA and it was fun just teasing his friend and watching him struggle to come up with a good excuse. 

“Are you sure nothing ever happened between you and Michael?” Pete said. “He is so charmed by you.”

“No. I was pretty smitten when we first met but sometimes you just know that it's better to stay friends and not fuck everything up. He has a long term girlfriend anyways.” Patrick was rubbing at his nose as if he had an awkward scratch. 

“Yeah, you're not the home wrecking type,” Pete said, but he was fixated on the first part. Maybe it would be best to just stay friends. Maybe he shouldn't say anything to Patrick about their relationship. He'd hyped himself up by thinking about how best to confess but it would be better if he just let things continue as they were. It sounded like what Patrick would want anyway. 

 

At some point after Thanksgiving, Pete got talked into buying a tiny black puppy called Baloo, because according to Patrick, _“If there's a Mowgli in the house, then there has to be a Baloo.”_ Bronx loved him so hard for that and even Pete went soft, even if he was the only one trying to housebreak the pup.

Patrick was finally working on music again with some bands in the studio, even if he always needed a Skype session with Pete halfway through. He'd fallen back in love with music again, and was working harder on their songs, playing with the demos on his computer. They talked more about releasing music together, but it still didn't seem feasible.

As Ashlee had Bronx for Thanksgiving, Pete got him for Christmas. He'd originally planned to take him back to Chicago to his parents house, but he decided in the end that they should pack the car up and go to the cabin. Just the three of them and Baloo.

It ended up being a lot more fun this way. Bronx was excited, it was the first time he really understood what Christmas was and boy did they know it. Patrick had bought him a brand new Lego set that would take them all day to make and Pete felt like he personally cleared out the local Toys'R'Us by the time he was done wrapping.

“It feels like a blur when I think about the last time we were here,” Patrick said on Christmas Eve. Bronx was finally asleep, waiting for Santa and they were curled up on the couch, too lazy to head to bed. “I was a mess.”

“You were still in shock. So was I,” Pete said, closing his eyes briefly. “We'll make some better memories now.”

“Yeah. Thanks for inviting me,” Patrick said, thankfully not adding anything about how he didn't want to be a burden. "I couldn't think of a better way to spend it.”

“Same, considering neither of us coped with Thanksgiving,” Pete joked, resting his head against Patrick's shoulder. “It's going to be a good one.”

Bronx tore through his presents by eight-thirty, as Patrick scrambled some eggs for them. Pete had bought Patrick a new leather jacket and an expensive pedal he'd been gushing about. Pete had got some bass strings and a check _“To cover the water bill I promised to pay.”_ Patrick had never been great with presents. 

They cooked together and Patrick ate half his plate before they got to working on the Lego castle Patrick had bought. Bronx had even got them presents, which turned out to be matching Christmas sweaters, a probably weird joke by Ashlee. Bronx ended up pulling Rudolph's bobble nose off Pete's one and fed it to Baloo, but it didn't matter. It was a good day.

“Can we talk?” Patrick asked later that night, as they laid on the bed in their PJ's. Patrick was cross-legged and staring at Pete. When Pete nodded his head, Patrick licked his lips, eyes rolling back behind his glasses. “I want you to know that it's okay to be glad that we reconnected. I know sometimes you feel bad for thinking that way because of the way we found each other again.”

“Okay...” Pete said. It wasn't a big deal, he just sometimes started to say he was glad they were friends again, before wondering whether that made him a dick. They only became friends again because of what had happened to Patrick.

“I've been trying to be more honest about things. I think that we would be talking by this point even if I hadn't been raped. I was in a bad place for a few months before it happened...I flopped badly...I lost a lot of money and I felt like a failure. I genuinely think I would've reached out to you anyway.”

“You think the attack just sped up our friendship?” Pete asked, watching Patrick stare down at his hands. The more he just stared at Patrick these days, the more he wondered how he hadn't seen how easy he was to love.

“I do believe that. Though, I think back to last Christmas and I definitely wouldn't have expected to spend this one with you and Bronx, but it's been the best. It's what I needed,” Patrick said, shrugging and then falling back onto the bed, wiggling around until he was tucked up beside Pete. “I just wanted you to know that it's okay to be glad we're friends again because I know we would've been anyway.”

“I'm happy to take your word for it,” Pete said, switching the lamp off and flooding the room in darkness. His conscience felt lifted by Patrick’s words, or at least he thought it did.

They spent Boxing Day coaxing Bronx away from the Lego to take a walk by the lake. Bronx insisted on holding Patrick's hand, so Pete was stuck carrying Baloo, who refused to walk. It was so quiet it was as if there was no one in the world that existed beside them. Pete really wouldn't have minded if that was true. 

It felt kind of perfect to finish the day with hot chocolate. Pete could hardly believe he felt that way. He'd been a rock-star a few years back and now he was in a cabin with his kid and best friend, unable to think of a better way to spend his Christmas.

Patrick's glasses fogged up the moment he lifted his mug to his face and goddamn, Pete thought it was the cutest thing. He must have seen it happen a billion times over the years, but it had never affected him like this. He wanted to cup his hand to the side of Patrick's cheek and rub his thumb against his cheekbone. He wanted to kiss his soft pink mouth and taste cocoa behind his lips.

“You've gone quiet.” Pete jolted from his thoughts at Patrick's comment. He had his mug wedged between his thighs as he wiped his glasses clean. Pete watched him, watched every move of Patrick until he figured it was past creepy.

“Yeah. Just feeling thankful right now,” Pete said, poking at one of the marshmallows floating on top of his hot chocolate. He watched Bronx do the same, sitting on the floor with a napping Baloo.

“Wrong Holiday,” Patrick laughed. “Thanksgiving was last month.”

 

By the time they got back to LA Pete was hugely aware that he was in love with Patrick, in a way that was so much more than before. Something happened in the cabin, maybe it was the scenery or Patrick's terrible gifts, but Pete suddenly felt _love_ in a far stronger way than previously. He didn't know what to do with it, should he tell Patrick and have him hate him for the rejection over the years, or flee like a hunted deer at the thought of Pete like that after what happened? He'd worked it out over the past few months that he wanted to be with Patrick _like that,_ but it hadn't been something he planned on pursuing after Patrick's comment at Thanksgiving.

Joanna had told him he'd feel better if he just told Patrick how he felt, but Pete couldn't bare the idea of losing what they had. He had his best friend back in his life and he was almost like his old self at times; fragments of the guy he'd been before, but it was there.

But then it was New Years and Pete was hosting another party so they had better things to concern themselves with. Patrick seemed a little calmer than he had for the pool party, even if he dressed as meticulously. Brendon was going to be there, though Pete hadn't slept with him since before the pool party. They'd had a few text chats, but Pete didn't want to get involved in anything that could give Brendon ideas.

Patrick's support group all had separate plans so he didn't have them to hide with, but they'd invited Patrick's old band and Rubano and Michael had shown up so Patrick was holding court with them. Luckily Bronx was back with his mom so he didn't have the kid to watch out for around a bunch of drunk idiots and Michael was so damn protective of Patrick that he didn't have to focus all his concern on him either. Though, it kind of was anyway. 

Andy and Joe were both here, though Joe was keeping his distance, but Pete appreciated that he'd shown up. He knew Patrick was in fairly regular contact with him, but there was a weirdness between Pete and Joe that hadn't been resolved since he stayed during Patrick's initial recovery. Maybe one day.

Patrick found Pete again a half hour or so before the countdown. He wrapped his fingers around Pete's wrist like he had done previously, when he'd been scared. As Pete turned to look at his face he just smiled though and rested his head on Pete's shoulder.

“Half an hour and I can put the last year behind me, literally,” Patrick said softly. “I can't fucking wait.”

“A brand new year for me to ruin,” Pete deadpanned, but Patrick lifted his head and gave him a dirty look.

“No talk like that, not when I'm in a good mood.” Patrick was clearly a little tipsy with how he tapped the tip of Pete's nose with his finger. He descended into giggles and Pete wanted to kiss him. He didn't because it wasn't the countdown and because Patrick would hate him for it. Plus they were in the midst of a house party with too many witnesses.”Michael and Matt have been trying to talk me into stuff that scares me.”

“Like what?” Pete asked, but stopped when he could see a fight breaking out near the pool. Andy was there to to stop it, but Patrick was peeling away from Pete's side. Pete let him go, figuring it was his house, he should deal with the fuss.

By the time he sent the two guys packing, because he didn't know them anyway, it was only a couple of minutes to midnight. Pete really wanted to find Patrick and see it in with him, but he couldn't see him anywhere. The backyard was packed with people so he was probably hiding out in a calmer spot. He still didn't deal with crowds great.

“Pete?” He turned at the sound of his voice, to see Brendon standing there, dark eyed and with a little more facial hair than normal. It wasn't the best thing going for him. He didn't say anything. “I just wanted to clear the air and apologize for whatever I did.”

“You upset Patrick,” Pete said, as if it was that basic. It really was, as well as the uneasy feeling that he'd caught himself in the middle of a love triangle without meaning to.

“I made one joke!” Brendon laughed, shrugging his shoulders, but Pete couldn't ever laugh at that. “He was a total flirt when we toured together. I swear he was banging all the dudes in his band by the way he moved around the stage!”

“It's just not something I wanna hear you say about him,” Pete said, holding his hands out as if he didn't want to go further into it. He didn't want to at all, he just wanted Brendon to leave him alone, especially as he heard people chanting backwards from ten. He looked around and saw a flash of Patrick's navy shirt but then it was gone again.

_“EIGHT! SEVEN! SIX!”_

“I won't call him it again, promise. But there is something I need to say,” Brendon said, over the chanting. Pete's anxiety was bumping up a few notches. He felt lost at his own party.

_“FIVE! FOUR! THREE!”_

“Not now, Brendon.”

_“TWO! ONE!”_

Pete felt wet lips on his own as the fireworks lit up the night sky. Brendon had hands on his shoulders and a tongue in his mouth before Pete could even think about what was happening. They hardly kissed when they hooked up and it was far from what he wanted now. He pushed firmly at Brendon's chest, finally catching sight of Patrick staring at the two of them. He smiled at Pete and waved, but he looked upset.

“Goddammit Brendon! I swear you're not invited to my next party,” Pete said with little venom, aware that he didn't want to hurt his feelings in front of everyone. There was a lot of hugging and kissing going on and no one was paying them any attention, but still, Pete wasn't an out and out dick.

Patrick had disappeared almost as quickly as he'd waved at Pete, but he knew where to find him. He was in the bedroom, wiping at his eyes as Pete came in. He tried to hide it behind a smile, but Pete closed the door behind him and shook his head.

“That's not what it looked like,” Pete said, sitting beside Patrick on the bed. “I mean, it was Brendon shoving his tongue down my throat during the New Years countdown, but I didn't actually want him to.”

“It's okay, it's just 'cause I have issues with him, that's why I'm kinda upset,” Patrick said, giving himself an out. Pete was tempted to pretend to buy it, but then he told himself it was New Years, maybe it was time to give things a go.

“You're upset because you're in love with me,” Pete stated simply. “It's not the first time you've watched me kiss someone on New Years and wished it was you, but it was the first one where I finally fucking realized I wanted it to be you.”

Patrick didn't say anything for a while, staring at the floor across from them before he looked up at Pete. “It took you over a decade to work this out?”

“Uh...Yeah.” Pete didn't mention that it took about three people to explain it to him, but it didn't matter. “I've been kind of in love with you for a while now, but I didn't want to say anything and risk the chance of ruining our fresh friendship. I'm the guy you said you'd loved. The one guy you'd ever been into and I never wanted to realize, but now I do and I'm sorry if it puts you in an awkward position.”

“I was gonna kiss you for the countdown, that's what Michael and Matt were trying to convince me to do, but then you were with Brendon and it sucked.” Patrick scratched his jaw, looking desperately like he was trying to find some form of composure.

“Same. I mean about wanting to kiss you for the countdown. I uh, wasn't sure what you'd think to it. Like, because of what happened.”

“I've been in love with you since I was a teenager, getting raped didn't change anything. Being around you, has, uh, brought it all back though. I told myself you weren't into me for years and I managed to dampen the feelings but--”

“Okay. I'm fixing this.” Pete cut Patrick off and lent over to grab at his alarm clock. He fiddled with it for a few moments, setting the alarm and turning the hands back ten minutes.

“You cannot be serious,” Patrick said, when he worked out what Pete was doing. “That's corny even by your standards.”

“No it's not, it's fixing past mistakes.” Pete pressed his finger to Patrick's lips and stared into his face. He was giving Pete a soft look, like he was nervous but trusting. There was a whole lot of openness on his face and it terrified Pete. He stroked a hand through Patrick's hair, smiling when the alarm started to beep as the clock hands struck midnight. He leaned in, even though his heart was jack-hammering in his chest. It was a chaste kiss at first, not wanting to push Patrick into anything, but when he started to pull away he felt Patrick's hands fumble to his jaw, bringing him in.

Pete let Patrick guide the kissing, for fear of overstepping the mark. It honestly felt like a jigsaw piece snapping in place at long last, like he was an idiot for not kissing Patrick at Christmas, or explaining on Thanksgiving.

When they finally pulled away, Patrick rested their foreheads together, his eyes open a little like he was in shock. Pete looked at him through his own lashes. He rested a hand on the small of Patrick's back, against the patch of skin bared between shirt and jeans.

“Can we just stay up here the rest of the night?” Patrick asked. “Just you and me?”

“No one else. I promise,” Pete said, lifting his head to kiss Patrick's forehead. All he wanted to do was kiss Patrick and stroke his skin, that's all he felt capable of. He didn't care about anything else that happened at his party so long as he got to stay locked in his room with his best friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed reading as much as I have enjoyed reading your comments!
> 
> This isn't the end of the story, but because it's now going to be focused more on their relationship, it seemed more tactful to split it in two parts. Part two starts next week!


End file.
